As An Angel Falls
by BKDaemon
Summary: "He moves like an angel of death, carrying fury on his wings..." "Every angel can fall." Natasha sees and hears things that aren't actually there. What happens when the wrong people find out and turn her life upside down?
1. The Beginning

A/N: Blabbity blah. Here comes the usual. Yes I'm a nar-nar and didn't see the replace chapter button, so I deleted and uploaded a new chapter, so my apologies if you thought I released chapter 4, only to find one chapter.

**Disclaimer: I do ****not**** own Altaïr, (or any other products) but I however do own all thoughts, OCs, and ideas that will be held within this story.**

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

_It was a sweltering afternoon, the sun beating down upon its victims in the canyon remorselessly. But the people did not complain, it was in their nature to accept it. After all it was a part of life and they all had things to do. There was no gentle breeze out in this seemingly vapid land. Unnerving silence was all that existed; the animals had fallen quiet as they do when a predator nears._

_The silence was broken by angry shouts, clinking of metal and the sound of metal versus metal. And then… the scream. It was inhuman, raw and filled with fear. Then, the thundering of hooves proceeded to drown out the shouts as the sorrel colored mare bolted as though her rider weighed no more than a feather. The galloping horse did not upset the white robed rider, he knew he could handle the animal and her flight of fear soon became a flight of purpose._

_But the white robed man was no fool. He knew that his pursuers saw what horse he leapt upon. It was this cross of intelligence and paranoia that made him switch horses whenever possible. A few hours later he sat upon the back of a grey gelding that plodded along at its own pace. Neither of them was in much of a hurry._

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Bright green eyes snapped open from the daydream, darted around and surveyed the lush green landscape. The green eyes and the green landscape seemed to be competing for attention. The creamy white skin on her face was dotted with few freckles and was turning pink from the short exposure in the sun. Fresh pink scars adorned her strong arms, crossing over the silvery old scars, but. Her legs were slim, but well muscles with years of running and riding giving strength to her body. Layers of gorgeous red hair were restrained with a hair tie, pulled back into a sloppy pony-tail. Her small human ears were deaf to the softer sounds of the world, but the sound of the raw scream disturbed her, for none of the horses that lived on the tiny ranch had anything to fear. The large German shepherd mix that sat by her side seemed unfazed, looking around almost lazily. The girl snorted and rolled her eyes after glancing at her companion. "Oh Buddy, your simplicity never ceases to amuse me." Slender legs carried the girl away from the wooden fence towards the stables and the dog trotted after her, his extra toes bouncing awkwardly on his back paws.

The stables were old and in a slight stage of disrepair but they were still rather serviceable and the few horses didn't seem to mind. They were well fed and sheltered at night and that's all that really mattered to the beasts. The slender girl walked up to one of the boxes and looked at the liver chestnut mare that eagerly thrust her muzzle over the door. The girl giggled as the horse made a series of whuffling noises "Taina, I know I promised, but you'll forgive me if I can't ride today right?" She felt dumb, talking to the animals as though they could understand, but she continued to do so anyways.

No more than one hundred yards away stood a small single story house. The house was in almost pristine condition, only a few chips of the blue and white paint here and there and a few loose floorboards on the porch. The screen door was flung open as the girl's mother stepped outside. "Natasha! Stop dilly-dallying and come inside to help prepare dinner!" This provoked a snort of contempt from the girl as she glanced back to the stables.

It was nice out here in the country but she couldn't help but feel as if it were her fault that her family had to move far into the country side. The doctors had suggested that the openness would benefit her and they were far enough from other people that if they were to have a repeat of her last episode less people would be in danger and less would witness it. It wasn't precisely Natasha's fault seeing as a person can't really control whether or not they are manic depressive let alone suffering from depression in general. Natasha blamed it all on her past. Her adoptive parents were generous and always providing her with things but nothing could erase the horrors of her childhood. Realizing that she hadn't moved an inch, Natasha quickly scrambled inside, mindful to leave her muddy shoes on the porch.

The dinner was simple and rather bland. Pushing the tasteless noodles around her plate, Natasha grimaced. "Thanks for dinner. G'night mom, g'night dad," The words had barely left her mouth before she was down the hallway and in her small, white room.

Nothing hung on the walls, no photos, no posters, and no medals. This doubled with the white walls provided a very oppressive aura. But it mattered not. Natasha was more or less content, her one prized possession stashed away under a loose floorboard. She shut her door was shut, but did not lock it, seeing as how she didn't have a lock. Being careful not to make a great sum of noise, she pulled back the loose board and removed a rather small blue book. It had no title, no writing on the cover, just plain and simple. Natasha hurriedly flipped through the pages, ignoring her past writings. There was no point trying to dwell on her mistakes, all those people had it coming, but she couldn't help but smile as she glanced over one of the entries.

Я не могу поверить, что на самом деле укусила его! Ну, я думаю, это то, что он получает за то что оставил меня в спальной комнате, но все же ... Он сказал, что он не чувствовал боли, ни когда я прорвала сквозь его кожу, ни когда хлынула кровь, ни когда мои ногти вырыли линий в его плоти. Может быть, он имеел чрезвычайно высокий болевой порог, но укус был довольно неприятный, даже для меня. (1)

Flipping past several more entries, she at last had found a blank page. Flopping on her bed, pen in hand, she began to scribble furiously.

Я боюсь, услышав того чего не существует, видеть то, чего не существует. Будет ли этому конец? Отставит ли эта в белых одеждах фигура мои мечты в покое? Я боюсь спать из за этого человека, потому что я смогу увидеть его снова.

Я боюсь, что я схожу с ума (2)

Hearing footsteps down the hall, Natasha froze and then scrambled to hide the book and pen under her pillows. Her parents didn't need to see this, not to mention they would be unable to comprehend the foreign tongue. Then there was the knock on the door and the soft-spoken voice of her mother, "Natasha, honey, are you ok?" The response was muffled by the walls, "Yeah mom, I'm good, just tired. I'll see you in the morning, ok?" The footsteps faded once more as her mother entered her own room, presumably, to sleep.

Stashing her beloved secrets once more, Natasha quietly scampered down the hallway to the bathroom. Shutting the door, locking it, and flipping on the lights all in one smooth motion, the girl turned away from the mirror and fumbled around in one of the drawers, fingers wrapping around the blade of a small, but sharp serrated knife. The sick, grim smile slowly appeared on her face. This was her addiction, her form of medication. Ever so gently she place the tip of the blade on her side and then, with growing force she continued to pull it down, the skin splitting easily, bright red blood welling up from the self-inflicted injury. Rinsing the knife and hiding it once more, Natasha stuck a few pieces of tissue to the wound and walked back to her room and curled up on her bed, crying. She knew she shouldn't cut, but she couldn't help it. It was her addiction, her form of medication. Slowly the bloodshot eyes began to close and the raggedy breathing slowed.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

_The guards shouted, chasing the man through the streets, bowling over anyone who dared to step in their path. They weren't going to lose this man again, oh no. He had escaped far too many times. The white robed man skillfully scaled the walls of the homes, dashing across the rooftops as the guards pelted him with stones and arrows. The man leapt down into a hole on the roof of a building that was gently covered with ivy, and landed with a near perfect roll. Cool, calm and collected he strode through the doorway and a man in black robes over white stood behind the bar. Only one word escaped his lips, eyes narrowed in frustration._

"_Altaïr."_

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Harsh whispers and bright sunlight forced the sleepy teen to awaken and rise out of bed. Something felt wrong to her, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. With a casual shrug, Natasha rolled onto the floor, shaking her head as if to remove the cobwebs, or the whispers.

_Damn Malik, those guards were no issue for me, I could have easily removed them from this world if I wished. _

She shook her head once more and the whispers seemed to silence, to stop taking the form of cold words. The floor creaked and the door squealed as she left the room her bare feet padding down the hall making very little noise at all. The kitchen was empty, it was far too early for the rest of the house to be up and Natasha secretly relished this time to herself. Going through her usual morning routine, she removed a can of Slimfast from the fridge and pulled out three different pill bottles from the cupboard. One was for depression, one for birth control and one for her bipolar condition. Granted she hated taking these pills, they never seemed to do much in the way of helping her, but then again she was too scared to stop taking them to see what would happen. Her liquid and pill breakfast finished, she opened the cabinet underneath the sink and Natasha tossed the away the tissues that she had just ripped away from her side, burying them under the other pieces of trash.

_He has no right to treat me like an insolent child._

And still the voices would not stop. Growling under her breath, Natasha strolled out of the kitchen and onto the vast land she would call her backyard. Upon opening the door to the outside world, Buddy came bounding up his pink tongue lolling in his mouth, eliciting a grin from the teen. "Silly Buddy, you're hungry aren't ya boy?" A short bark was the only response, almost demanding for food. A soft giggle burst forth as the dog nuzzled her while she scooped food from the bin on the side of the house into the happy dog's bowl. "Here you go weebo," she laughed, calling her dog by the strange nickname as her scarfed down the food placed before him.

Making her way to the stables, Natasha's ears were greeted with the friendly whickers and neighs of the horses. This too brought a small smile on her face as she grabbed the western saddle and bridle from the tack room. Setting the necessary tack on a bench near the cross ties, she went back to fetch Taina. Upon heaving the saddle on the mare's back, Natasha felt a ripple of pain run its course down her side. Of course, she had forgotten about her cut. That was the problem about keeping the out of sight, she would forget about them until she did something that tore the scabs. Gingerly, she placed a hand on her side; she could feel the heat from the swelling. Reaching for some tissues she kept in her pocket for the occasional runny nose, she quickly stuck them to her side so the blood that was slowly oozing out would not get on her shirt. Shortly thereafter the mare was saddled up and cantering through the fields with Buddy running at her side.

It wasn't long before she started to hear things again. The sound of metal on metal, frantic shouts and cries of pain. Her head whirled around, hoping to locate the source of the invisible noise. And that's when she saw it, the flash of white and the shine of metal. Panic set into her hear as she yanked sharply on the reins and ignoring the snort of protest, Natasha urged the mare into a canter.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

The rest of the early morning had passed without a hitch and the voices had stopped for the time being. For this, Natasha was grateful. She had told her parents before that she often heard things, and they used to laugh. But now they didn't. The search for a good therapist had been going on for some time, seeing as how Natasha rarely would tell the whole truth when speaking to them for fear of being ridiculed or looked upon as if she were some psycho.

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It was when she trotted the mare around the small house and stables to cool her off that she saw it. A small black car that looked like it had come from some expensive and foreign dealer. Eyebrows arched in silent questioning Natasha slid down from the saddle, uncaring if the mare wandered around as she stepped inside the house. Her eyes were greeted with a scene that was slightly out of the norm for her. At the table sat her parents, talking to a man that couldn't be more than 30 years old. "Oh there she is! Natasha come and say hello to Dr. Augustine," her mother chirped, obviously happy. "Uhm…hi?" The confusion could be heard in the girl's voice as she walked towards the pantry to pull out a loaf of bread. "Natasha honey, Dr. Augustine says he can help you with your...you know, your problems." Green eyes lit up almost instantly as the red haired girl spun on her heel. "Really? Is this true?" Her excitement was rather obvious, finally some hope!

The man smiled, white teeth contrasting with his lightly tanned skin. "Yes my dear, I hear you have quite the predicament," the man's voice was pleasing and deep, his whole being seemed to ooze friendliness. It was hard not to like this affable man and his eagerness to smile and talk. Even his hazel eyes seemed to smile. "Perhaps we could discuss more of your problem in more of a private place?" Again that dazzling smile came. Natasha gave a noncommittal shrug, "Yeah sure thing. We can go outside, that's probably best." With that the doctor and Natasha left the plain kitchen to venture to the outside world.

Dr. Augustine was mildly surprised when he stepped outside and the first thing he saw was a horse and a rather large sized dog, which happened to let out a low growl. "Buddy!" Natasha snapped, her cheeks blushing red, "I'm sorry, he's usually so friendly. He probably smells cat on your or something." Her failed attempt at the joke made the man smile, "Oh it's no worry." "Good." She shooed the dog away and grasped the horse's reins, leading her and Dr. Augustine to the cross ties.

Watching the girl untack the horse with mild interest, he waited for her to make the first move. He didn't have to wait long. "So… Dr. Augustine…" "Call me Gabe, please. It's much less formal." "Okay, Gabe. Do you honestly believe you can help me?" It was his turn to look puzzled. "Yes, your parents didn't explain in detail about your issue, but they made sure to mention how other therapists were never given the whole picture. Why is that?" She snorted at his question, "I knew I would be mocked, they wouldn't believe me." Gabe smiled again and this time it looked slightly wicked, "Well trust me Miss Natasha when I say that I am not like the others."

This gentle prying continued for no more than 10 minutes before Natasha worked up enough courage to tell Gabe the whole story. She wouldn't leave a single piece of information out. It didn't take long for her to explain everything, the voices, dreams and now the hallucinations. Every so often during h he would write down tiny details all the while trying to figure out how to respond. "Hmm, this is rather interesting Natasha. How long has this been going on?" A vague shrug, "I dunno. A while." No matter how genial this man seemed, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong so she did not tell him how it started, nearly14 years ago when she was left in the orphanage by her aunt in Russia. Just thinking about that place brought back nightmares of a different kind, some of the worst being when the memories were just blank, like they had been blocked out or erased.

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The 'therapy' session was long over by the time Natasha returned to the house to settle down for dinner. The left overs weren't the most delicious, but it was food and no one had really felt like cooking. "So, Natasha, how did the discussion go with Dr. Augustine?" She would never escape the questioning of her mother if she kept silent, "Oh it went well, he seems nice enough and he listened pretty well." Though her mother kept pestering her throughout the dinner, she remained silent. It even got to the point where her father stepped in, "Debbie, she's had a long day, perhaps you should let her rest." Never before had Natasha been so thankful for her father's calm presence.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo(time lapse)xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

After an hour's drive or so, Dr. Gabriel Augustine had finally made it back to his average sized office. The girl was peculiar, he'd give her that much. But the things she saw, they were on the borderline of odd and insane. He barely had time to settle in before the phone rang with its god awful noise. A grim smile played on his face as he answered.

"It's good to hear from you again Warren Vidic."

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A/N: Double the notage! Holy poop this was a long(ish) chapter, makes me sad. I realize that Natasha might be a tad on the confusing side and possibly borderline Mary-Sue (I hope to god she never crosses that line). If she ever crosses that horrible line into the land of Mary-Sue-ness, please scream, cry and yell at me. I decided to make Natasha the way she is because...well frankly sometimes the other characters seem to live such happy lives. I wanted something more realistic, (not really heart wrenching, but to show that people often struggle with inner demons and sometimes, they lose (it happens)) so I took characteristics from many friends and acquaintances of mine (one of which who told me about the horrors of the orphanages in Russia from her years in one, as well as the horrors her biological mom inflicted on her (she'd go with her mother when she had 'clients')). Plus the unpredictability of people who are mentally unstable can provide an interesting basis…

And Dr. Gabriel Augustine…what side is he on? Is he even on a side?

Please inform me if there are any inconsistancies and so forth.

(1) "I can't believe I actually bit him! Well I guess it's what he gets for trying to put me in a sleeper hold, but still... He said he felt no pain when I broke through his skin, drawing blood nor when my nails dug lines in his flesh. Perhaps he has an extremely high pain tolerance, but that bite looked rather nasty, even to myself."

(2) "I am scared, hearing things that do not exist, seeing things that do not exist. Will this ever stop? Will this white robed figure stop plaguing my dreams like so? I fear sleep because of that person, because of what I might see. I fear that I'm going insane."


	2. Cured?

A/N: °O° Best A/N ever amirite?

**Disclaimer: I do ****not**** own Altaïr, (or any other products/songs) but I however do own all thoughts, OCs, and ideas that will be held within this story.**

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"Ah... Dr. Gabriel Augustine, it too has been some time since hearing your voice." The voice on the receiving end was cold and heartless, contrasting sharply with the warm tones of Gabe's voice. "Have you learned anything about the girl?" Another grimace from Gabe as the modern day Templar questioned him, "Warren, she is simple, certainly she can cause no harm. There is no way a little Russian girl can be related to the assassin bloodline!"

_A warning to the people_

_The good and the evil_

_This is war_

_To the soldier, the civilian_

_The martyr, the victim_

_This is war  
_

He could hear the hatred in Vidic's voice. "Do you think it matters if she is related or not? Not tell me, what have you learned?" The older man's patience was quickly running out.

_It's the moment of truth and the moment to lie_

_The moment to live and the moment to die_

_The moment to fight, the moment to fight, to fight, to fight, to fight  
_

Gabe sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose before he conceded. "According to her adoptive parents, Natasha is probably no older than 18. She was abandoned by her alcoholic and prostitute of her mother. Her father died in prison in Russia, or so they assume…" "I care nothing for her past. Does she see things?"

_To the right, to the left_

_We will fight to the death_

_To the Edge of the Earth_

_It's a brave new world from the last to the first_

_To the right, to the left_

_We will fight to the death_

_To the Edge of the Earth_

_It's a brave new world_

_It's a brave new world  
_

Gabe ignored the angry man's comment and continued. "She never said how long these things have been going on, only for some while. But yes, to answer your question, she sees and hears. But her family has mistaken these outbursts as just hallucinations that lead to violent outbursts, which explains why they moved to the country side. Apparently she bit someone."

_A warning to the prophet, the liar, the honest_

_This is war_

_To the leader, the pariah, the victim, the messiah_

_This is war_

_It's the moment of truth and the moment to lie_

_The moment to live and the moment to die_

_The moment to fight, the moment to fight, to fight, to fight, to fight  
_

A dry laugh came from the other side of the phone. "So she has spunk. Tell me, did she say what she sees?" Dr. Augustine chuckled softly. "She claims she sees nothing other than flashes of white robes and the glimmer of well polished metal. However she often hears more than she sees, but they are mere whispers."

_To the right_

_To the left_

_We will fight to the death_

_To the edge of the earth_

_It's a brave new world_

_From the last to the first_

_To the right_

_To the left_

_We will fight to the death_

_To the edge of the earth_

_It's a brave new world_

_It's a brave new world_

_It's a brave new world  
_

Vidic grunted, "Is that so? Are you sure that she isn't holding things back?" "I'm almost positive Vidic, she seemed almost relieved that someone finally listened to her and didn't accuse her of being mentally unstable. Perhaps she just had no further information to tell me about that was concerning?" His musings extracted a growl from the head man of Abstergo. "You'd best hope that she has no further to tell. Perhaps we could draw her in with a few false lures and then see for ourselves…" It was Vidic's turn to be pensive. "Perhaps."

_I do believe in the light_

_Raise your hands up to the sky_

_The fight is done_

_The war is won_

_Lift your hands_

_Towards the sun_

_Towards the sun_

_Towards the sun_

_Towards the sun_

_The war is won  
_

And with that statement, the phone call was over.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox (Back at the ranch) xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

It had been several days since the visit with Dr. Gabriel Augustine, but Natasha was no long plagued by the haunting dreams or whispers. She was thankful for this, but it left her feeling almost empty. Yes, she was missing her problems and secretly hoping that they would return.

Her parents however were more thrilled with the disappearance of their daughter's problems, it was a sign of normalcy and they would soon be able to return to the hustle and bustle of city life, but perhaps not in the city from which they moved. No, it would be somewhere new. Her parents decided to wait until dinner time to discuss the matter at hand.

Her mother frowned slightly when Natasha walked in with a few fresh scratches on her arms. "Good heavens Natasha, what'd you do, fall in a briar patch?" The laugh was nervous, but still welcome. "Oh yes mother, clumsy ol' me fell into a patch of thorns." Her smiled was warm, hiding the lies quite well. Most of the cuts had been self inflicted whereas others had come from the sharp branches of the trees she used to so eagerly climb. "Natasha, your mom and I have been talking.." her father started, ignoring the look of bewilderment in his daughter's eyes, "We're thinking of moving back to the city. Not the one we moved away from but back to city life nonetheless." "What?" Bewilderment quickly turned to frustration and then anger. "Why? How could you do this? It's nice out here and I haven't had any problems!" "True that may be, but also, your problems have left you and being as far away as we are from others, this will expand your social circle and you'll have new friends!" Natasha narrowed her eyes, seething. "I can't believe you did this to me! You expect me to just up and leave Buddy and Taina and the life I finally settled into? Hell to the no!" Her anger wasn't misplaced and her parents knew what they were doing was asking much of their daughter but they figured it'd be for the best. "Natasha, you can bring Buddy with you and I'm sure some of the neighbors out here would love to care for Taina," her mother tried reasoning, but knew it would be close to useless. "Yeah. Right. Whatever." The infuriated teen stormed down the hallway, slamming her door with an audible _**BANG**_. Her parents shook their head sadly, they had tried, and appeared to have failed, but their daughter would come through and realize that this was the right thing to do.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

That night, after days of dreamless sleeping, her horrors seemed to return. But these weren't the strange dreams of the white robed man. No, these were the nightmares of her childhood.

_She lay on the dirt floor of their little shack, trying her very best to ignore the large bugs and spiders that would crawl around her as she slept. But a young child can only resist fear for a short amount of time._

_Then the setting changes, she's following her mother to the location of one of her 'clients', Natasha wasn't clueless as to what was going on, and the knowledge of what her mother did seemed to terrify her more. "Sit facing the corner Natasha. Close your eyes and cover your ears." The 3 year old girl did as her mother told her to, shaking with fear, but no matter how hard she pressed her hands over her ears, she could still hear the noises. And when they stopped, she felt a hand touching her, one that wasn't her mother's. And then, blackness._

_The yelling, her aunt and grandmother arguing over who would care for the child after her mother had lost custody of her once more. Her grandmother took her in, into the blue kitchen. Blackness enveloped her vision again._

_She stood at the front of the orphanage, her grandmother hugging her and bidding her farewell. The orphanage its self was terrifying, cold and dark, it was no place to call home. Anything you came in with was thrown into a large closet that the larger children would fight the younger children for. The little kids would always lose; they didn't have the strength to fight. _

_Her grandmother brought an orange one day; the orange little ball of juice was rare in Russia, and no doubt very expensive._

_The doctors... They were scary enough without their instruments of pain. Natasha remembers being wheeled into the operation room, wide awake and strapped down to the little table, able to see all the metal tools that looked rather dangerous. Then blackness consumed her mind once more. When she awoke, all she felt was pain, ripping, searing pain across her abdomen, which was none too gently wrapped with bandages. Having surgery, even for a hernia, was no fun, especially not in a 3__rd__ world country._

Natasha sat up, eyes wide with fear and pain as she remember the tattered remains of her childhood. Seeing that it was barely 3:00 A.M., she let her head fall back onto the soft pillows, sleep consuming her mind once more. But this time, no restless dreams entered her peaceful sleep.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

A/N: Holy moly, I know, this chapter was actually ridiculously short, being only about 5-6 pages, but it's for good reason, I guess… And yes, her 'nightmares' about her childhood in Russia… those are real experiences that my friend went through.

And yes, as you can tell, I really like to incorporate songs within stories, because sometimes they can tell more than what I can put into words, or they further explain things, but in a more subtle manner. If you have suggestions for a song that you would like to see in here, feel free to speak up, and I might try to incorporate it into a chappie :]


	3. A New Life, A New Start

A/N: Nothing new to report.

**Disclaimer: I do ****not**** own Altaïr, (or any other products) but I however do own all thoughts, OCs, and ideas that will be held within this story.**

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"Natasha! It's time to get up!" Within moments her father burst into the room, acting like Mr. Sunshine. "Yeh, yeh I know." "Well sometimes I wonder about you child. We already loaded your bags so pull on your shoes, its time to get on the road." Natasha looked up at her father, her green eyes half closed with sleepiness. After her father departed from the room, she slid on a pair of shoes, grabbed her little blue book and shoved it under her jacket.

_Go unnoticed_

_Let the freedom wash away_

_Losing focus_

_The pretense is second nature  
_

The car windows were all rolled down as the Chevy pulled 70 plus miles an hour down the deserted highway. Her hand outside the window, Natasha stared at the seemingly empty landscape that flashed by, dotted with the occasional houses.

_It's a broken life that I cling to_

_Trying to make right_

_I feel dismay just like you do_

_I feel decayed_

_So, find me a way to leave this wasted life_

_Behind me (this wasted life)_

_Find me a way to leave this wasted life_

_Behind me after all  
_

It felt like hours later before the suburban rolled into a small rest stop. "Time to go stretch our legs!" Her father was way too cheerful for having just put the pedal to the metal for the past three hours. Natasha stared at him before sliding from her seat, the solid earth made her legs quiver with each step, feeling like a handicapped person. The long car ride seemed to have no effect on Buddy, but he had copious amounts of energy that needed to burn off. Despite her 'handicap', she made it to the vending machine and promptly bought two items, a king size box of Sugar Babies, and a Coke, her guilty pleasures. The coke wasn't cold, but it would suffice.

_Yes I see you_

_Surrounded by the hopeless_

_When they need you_

_You're much too good and bloated_

_By the hopeless life that you cling to_

_Try to make right_

_I feel disdain just like you do_

_I feel decayed_

_So, find me a way to leave this wasted life_

_Behind me (this wasted life)_

_Find me a way to leave this wasted life_

_Behind me after all  
_

It was now almost 7 at night and the massive dose of sugar was doing little to keep Natasha awake. "Damn I need a coffee or something." Natasha grumbled, resting her head on the windows which had been rolled up due to the chilly night air. "Cheer up, we'll be at our new home in about an hour." "Fucking fantastic." Since the trip began, her mood just seemed to deteriorate more and more to the point it was almost unbearable, she no longer cared about dropping the dangerous F bomb. She was a teen, it happens.

_Go away_

_Go away_

_And just leave me here_

_Just leave me here_

_Just leave me here_

_So, find me a way to leave this wasted life_

_Behind me (this wasted life)_

_Find me a way to leave this wasted life_

_Behind me after all_

_This wasted life_

_This wasted life_

_This wasted life_

_This wasted life  
_

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Natasha stared up the sidewalk to what would become her new house. It was a soft beige color with accenting roof tiles. One window sat directly atop the garage, "Just think Natasha, that's gonna be your room right there." Her father pointed to the window and handed her one of the keys to the house, "Go on, go explore your new home, get acquainted." With that he gave her a gentle push.

Natasha climbed up the stairs, trailing her fingers on the handrail, wincing each time a step would creak. At the top of the stairs was a hallway that branched off into four different rooms. Natasha walked towards the one furthest to the right and opened the door unsurely.

"Hot damn."

The room was much larger than her previous one, with space for her bed and dressers and even a desk for her computer. The white walls were blindingly bare, but hopefully her parents would allow her to hang things up on the walls finally. She quickly checked the floorboards, and much to her dismay, not a single one was loose.

The window was left ajar, causing the blinds to flutter and bang against the window, snapping Natasha back to reality.

She would never admit to her parents that she secretly liked her new house.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

The harsh and rapid beeping of the morning alarm gave Natasha an unnecessary wake up call. She rolled to look at the clock's digits, which read 4:30. Noncommittal noises were made as she rolled from her toasty warm bed to stumble down the hall into the bathroom.

Flipping on the lights, Natasha quickly closed and covered her eyes from the sudden brightness. Moving at an unbearably slow pace she slowly began to dress, wash her face and apply the small amounts of makeup. Her side seemed to be doing better, the scabs pulling the separate ends of the skin back together, where a pink scar would soon form. She left the bathroom at 4:45 to head down the stairs and rummage through the cupboards for a bowl and spoon and then to the pantry for the container of cereal, randomly selecting a sugar packed cereal. "Diabetes, here I come," she rudely uttered to herself, missing her seemingly endless supply of Slimfast already.

The kitchen was cleaned up after her sugary meal, and the lights turned off as she proceeded back up the stairs into the dark hallway where the only light was that emitted from the bathroom. There she brushed her teeth and her hair.

Slightly pleased with her appearance, Natasha made her way back down the stairs to grab her backpack, jacket and keys. On the table she left a note saying that she was leaving early to explore the town before school started. Natasha left the house, her battered tennis shoes making the occasional _**clop**_ against the tile floor.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

The city wasn't as bad as Natasha expected it to be, many things were within walking distance such as: the mall, the market, several parks, a gym, and the usual electronic store. The school, Rosenthall High was tucked away on a lesser traveled street but that did nothing to alter its beautiful presence. The front was shaded by oak trees and elms and a plethora of flowers. The concrete pathways were speckled black with gum, and benches from previous classes offered a comfortable place to sit and chat with friends.

By now the sun had risen, casting a gentle pink and orange glow across the numerous school buildings before fully illuminating them. Early bird students began to trickle onto campus, some on bikes or skateboards others by walking or driving. Natasha smiled at some kids that seemed friendly enough before wandering around, scoping out her classrooms.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

By lunch Natasha was miserable. The school looked nice enough, but it was nothing like the one back home. One teacher didn't approve of a dry remark made by Natasha, but she let her off with a warning. Other students had made snide remarks about her hair, most of them being unoriginal saying, "Oh look! A the ginger!" The students had even more of a laugh when they discovered that Natasha moved here from the countryside. "So how's the redneck cousin?" "Eff off." And then one saw the scars, "Aww boo hoo, look guys we got a lil' emo girl over here! Whattsa matter lil' girl, can't deal with your problems in a normal way?" The laughter was cold and mocking and nearly pushed Natasha over the edge, eyes flashing with anger she stood up and got about two inches from the kids face. "Tell me, what do you know of my problems?" It came out as a brutal snarl, startling the bullies who hurriedly backed off. "She's a freak man! A FREAK!"

But not all of her classes were awful; she felt she made a friend in one of them. Alyssa was a kind girl; the first thing she said to Natasha was "Your hair is so beautiful; it reminds me of fire, like the comforting kind." Natasha laughed softly, she had never though of fire as something that could be comforting, but regardless she smiled as Alyssa plopped down beside her, her bag hitting the floor with an ungraceful thump. "Y'know, that's pretty cool you moved to the city, hardly anyone moves out of the city 'cause their friends might think it's funny." Alyssa paused, her brown eyes showing her obvious joy. "You play any video games?" "I never really have the time, especially not where I used to live." The pair chatted about various games, music genres and movies during the lunch break.

The bell rang with its usual 20 cents sharp D sharp note. It was an awful noise when kids tried to hit the same pitch and failed. The girls said their brief good-byes before trudging off to class.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

The final bell had rung and students poured out of the school like ants from an anthill. Natasha waved to Alyssa as they passed, each going their opposite ways. As she weaved skillfully through the crowd of students, a body slammed into hers. The result was her stumbling and the guy almost tripping over her.

"Oh nice job dicknose, you coulda hurt that girl." "Hell you shouldn'ta pushed me dawg." "Man, you ain't ghetto so stop tryin' to act it." "And like you aren't, at least I don't say 'guy' at the start of every sentence." Natasha just stared in shock at the group of guys, most of them looked Hispanic or white, never before had she heard people talk like that. The guy that slammed into her looked back over at Natasha, "Sorry." "Yeh, sure it's cool."

About a half hour of walking later Natasha arrived back at home. No cars were in the driveway and so she mentally cheered, this would make it much easier to write in her little diary.

Я не пропускаю занятия в школе, не чуточки. Читать и писать не так плохо, но другие мальчикишки и девочонки ... У них нет ничего, кроме ненависти в их сердцах. (1)

She paused for a moment, thinking of the man who had yet to return to her dreams.

Я скучаю по человеку из вмоих снов; без постоянного шепота и его видений во сне, я чуствовала себя потеряной и одинокой. Он почти как ангел. (2)

The house phone rang and Natasha decided to ignore it. Her parents would leave a message if they needed her. But the voice on the machine wasn't that of her parents.

"Hi Natasha, it's Dr. Augustine, I was just calling to remind you that we have another session scheduled for Friday."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

A/N: lul. I'm going back to my **'require reviews to post next chapter' **type binge thing. Yes, I love reviews, even if you find faults to criticize. So yes,** 3 reviews for the next chapter **sounds logical I do believe?

Oh Natasha and her faithful journal…

For those who wonder how her parents bought a house so darn fast, in the last chapter it had said she had been going without the dreams etc for days, her parents were looking at houses, seeing as how they thought their daughter to be 'cured'.

(1) I don't miss school, not one bit. The reading and writing isn't awful, but the other boys and girls... They have nothing but hate in their hearts.

(2) I miss the man in my dreams, without the constant whispers and glimpses of him in my sleep, I feel as though I am lost and alone. He is like an angel almost.


	4. Abstergo

A/N: As promised, here is chapter 4!

I'm also running out of witty things to put here…

A note to my _**lovely**_ reviewers: luff, and mucho thanks, sometimes I just need the extra little push.

_**Lionpawheart**_: thank you so much for catching my grammatical errors and for providing me with another person to whom I can turn for help.

**Disclaimer: I do ****not**** own Altaïr, (or any other products) but I however do own all thoughts, OCs, and ideas that will be held within this story.**

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Natasha groaned, disliking the thought of having to visit the doctor again. Sure he was a nice man, but she was never one for doctors or therapists, who always seemed to pry. Plodding back down the stairs into the kitchen she saw Budding pawing frantically at the back door. "Aww my silly puppy, you want in, don'tcha big guy?" She carefully unlocked the door and was nearly run over by the happy dog. As the dog happily pranced around the kitchen table, Natasha went foraging for food in the rather large pantry, but there was nothing too appealing in there. With a grunt she went over to the fridge, digging through the fruit drawer to pull out a sweet smelling peach. They were one of her favorite fruits, when they were ripe enough but pineapple was at the top of the list. After quickly washing the delicate fruit she pulled out a knife and plate and set to work chopping it up.

Thoroughly finished making her mess and cleaning it up, the hunger in her belly was satisfied. A quick glance at the clock told her that her parents would be home in probably an hour, give or take. Pulling a small spiral notebook from her backpack, she flipped through to find a blank page. Only one teacher had given her homework, but it was pretty simple. Just to color and label the axial and appendicular portions of the human skeleton. What she gathered from the other kids in the anatomy class was there would be lots of coloring involved in the class. This didn't bother Natasha, since coloring was a rather enjoyable pastime of hers.

Time ticked by, and at last she heard the loud groan of the garage door opening and the deep rumbling of the car. Her parents were home. With a smile, she unlocked and propped open the door to the garage seeing as how her parents were struggling with bags of groceries. At last! Decent food! The unloading was done relatively fast, and the oven was quickly brought to temperature. "Nachos, it's whats for dinner," she thought with a smiled. Natasha had no reason to complain, they were simple to make and in her opinion, absolutely delicious.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

By the time Natasha glanced at the time again, it was already 9:00 P.M., much to her surprise; she was not the least bit tired, but she still decided to get ready for bed. Half running up the stairs she skidded down the hallway, sliding on the polished wood floors with her slippery socks. Grabbing a pair of sweatpants from her drawers and a raggedy old tee shirt she slid back down the hall to the bathroom. Sliding was much more efficient in her mind. In the bathroom she flipped the shower on, waiting for the warm water to come spewing out. Stripping down she looked in the mirror, the scabs were coming loose from her side and some had already fallen off. She knew that the rest would be lost in the shower.

The water was so gloriously warm, relaxing her muscles and breaking the small chill she never knew she had. Of course the worse part was yet to come. There was nothing that could parallel with the unpleasantness of stepping from a warm shower to a cold room. Stepping out into the cold room, goose bumps rose on her skin almost instantly, but she was right about the scabs, they were washed away leaving a bright pink line of fresh flesh. Dressing at lightning speed, she slowly began warming back up, the process aided by the use of her hair dryer. It didn't take too long to dry her hair and she ran to her room, power sliding almost half the way. Oh the fun that she would have… It didn't take long for Natasha to wrap her self up in a cocoon of blankets and drift off to sleep.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

_Blood everywhere, rocks falling. Screams of pain, not all of it was physical. The dark feeling of despair and helplessness was almost overpowering. There was only one thing to do, and that was to run._

_Flashes of white robes and metal once more. Almost unintelligible shouts for someone to halt. The white robed man moved faster than what seemed humanly possible, flying over the rooftops, climbing like a squirrel when needed. And the rare, insane dive._

_Yes, he must be an angel, or perhaps an eagle trapped in the body of a human. There was no other explanation for how he moved. It was smooth and coordinated, like a bird who rides on the thermals high above the heads of people._

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Natasha awoke with a start, pain coursing through her body and the feeling of despair was so very strong that it threatened to make her sick. A deep pain ran through her stomach, she couldn't place the cause, but it must be the feeling that people would call 'gut wrenching'. "So much for being free of this," she groaned into her pillow. The dreams were always flashes, and secretly she longed for more, to find out who this mysterious man was. Rubbing her tired eyes, Natasha rolled onto her side, pulling the blankets up to her chin, urging sleep to come back to her.

It never did.

When her alarm finally went off, it was almost a blessing. That is, until she went to the bathroom and saw her bloodshot eyes. "God I look like shit." She sighed, there would be no hope to make her eyes look less bloodshot, but hopefully the red would fade before school got too far along. Trudging back to her room to get dressed, Natasha grabbed a pair of old jeans and a raggedy pull over sweatshirt, a grim smile playing on her face as she mused, "If only it was this easy for everything"

Her breakfast was almost nonexistent seeing as how she wasn't hungry and she had a strange suspicion that she wouldn't be able to keep her food down for very long. Natasha carelessly threw her schoolwork into her backpack, tossing it over one shoulder.

_Malik is in no place to criticize my actions, if he had followed my lead then he would have both arms and his brother still._

Natasha glanced around warily, wondering if anyone else heard. No, it was just the voice inside her head, narrating those thoughts with her own voice. A half grin flashed on her face as she tried to figure out why the voices in her head always sounded like her voice. It was one of those mysteries that always amused her. Why couldn't the conscience have a different voice, at least that way it wouldn't feel like you were always just talking with yourself? She shook her head as she realized the ridiculousness of her thoughts.

It didn't take forever long to walk to school; it was only a mile or two, with a few signals in between with the hopes of stopping the cars from hitting people. I guess that was the only issue here, so many people were distracted when they were driving that they often hit other cars, motorcyclists or even worse, pedestrians.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

School passed without a hitch. Well, except for a pop quiz in government and more homework from English and anatomy. But that was to be expected for a Friday. Natasha froze mid stride as a shrill scream split the air. Panic nearly took over until she realized the source, a red tailed hawk. They weren't commonly seen in the suburban area she had already assumed, and judging from the sound it made, it had found some worthy prey.

It seemed like time had slowed to allow for her to get home in time. It wasn't surprising to see her mother home, and in a sense it was comforting. That is, until she reminded her about Dr. Augustine. "Natasha go get cleaned up, Dr. Augustine called and I'm supposed to drop you off at his office in half an hour!" A muffled groan was the only answer she got. She trudged up the stairs to dig through the closet in hopes of finding some rather presentable clothes. Natasha resorted to grabbing a clean pair of white shorts, a black v-neck shirt that had a sketching of tiger in a more silvery color. A quick touch up to her lack of make up and Natasha was back down stairs pulling on a pair of white sandals. Her only sandals actually, and they were in surprisingly good condition. Natasha glanced down at her hands and a smiled tugged at her lips as she fiddled with a friendship ring given to her by Alyssa. It was a simple, silver ring with the words "Friends forever" inscribed on the outside. The inside of the ring was inscribed too, but with different words, words that could be considered more like words of wisdom and inspiring at the same time. _"Look back and smile on perils past"_ (*) "Natasha go open the garage door, I'll be ready in a moment!" Of course in her mother's sense of time, a moment really means about 3 to 4 minutes. It took about another 5 minutes for them to actually hit the road. "Uh mom, where is his office?" "The more industrial part of town, off of 19th and Sherman I think." Natasha tilted her head to the side, like a confused puppy. "Oh, ok."

It only took another half hour to reach the office, her mother cursing the traffic and "shitty ass drivers" all the way there. They survived the eventful trip, narrowly missing two collisions from people randomly swerving into their lane. Her mother pulled into the tidy parking lot, stopped right in the middle of the row and unlocked the doors. "Off ya go honey; just call me when you need a ride home." "Yes mom." The reply was slightly muted, but it was all her mom needed to hear before driving off.

Natasha walked towards the large glass doors almost hesitantly, realizing she had no idea where she was supposed to go, let alone anything else. Shoving the worrisome thoughts to the back of her mind, Natasha strode towards the front desk looking at the bespectacled woman with mousy brown hair. "Uhm hi, I'm here to see Dr.-" The lady cut her off and looked up before speaking in a sour tone, "Dr. Augustine? Yes I know. He's on the 8th floor. The elevator is to your right; the stairs are next to the elevator. You might want to hurry, you're almost late." Natasha raised her eyebrows and quickly walked over towards the elevator, which seemed to be taking forever to descend. "Oh forget it," she muttered, shoving the door to the stairs wide open before running up them, sometimes taking two steps at a time. It took a good while to run up the eight flight of stairs, but it was pretty good cardio, so Natasha didn't really mind. The door to the 8th floor was already propped open, as if someone was waiting. A frown flashed across her face before she quickly replaced with a smile that was almost too happy to be real.

Setting a quick pace down the hall, she quickly found the door labeled "Dr. Gabriel Augustine" and with that she carefully opened the door, to come face to face with another receptionist desk. The lady glanced up, "Go straight back, he's in the 3rd room on the left." Following the simple directions, Natasha was face to face with another door, waiting to be opened. So that's what she did.

The room behind the door was rather open, a few chairs, a bookshelf and a table. The color itself was a warm brown color that was almost soothing. Two of the three chairs were already occupied, one by Dr. Augustine and another by a stranger. "Natasha! I see you've found your way quite easily!" "The ladies told me where to go… anyway I'm sorry if I'm late, the elevator was taking too long so I went up the stairs. Talk about my exercise for the day." Both men laughed at her feeble attempt of a joke. "Natasha, do feel free to sit down and allow me to introduce you to Mr. Vidic. He's my partner in crime so to speak, and he's found your case to be much unlike the others we've ran into." Vidic smiled, though it wasn't a kind smile. It seemed rather forced. Natasha just assumed he wasn't the smiling type. "It's a please to meet you Miss Natasha…" She just smiled and dipped her head, her thoughts going a million miles an hour. "God, even when he talks it's as if he feigns politeness!" They must have noticed the furrowing of her eyebrows as she pondered the situation, "Natasha, is there something on your mind?" "Oh, yeah! The dreams, they've come back. And so have the voices." The caught Vidic's attention as he seemed to focus more intently. "Do explain Natasha, are these new ones? What do you see and hear?" "Uhm, its just more flashes of white and metal, but its like, whoever it is. It feels like something bad happened to them, or maybe even around them? I woke up with this horrible feeling in my stomach once, but I don't know why…" It was time for the men to look curious. Then Gabe spoke, "Quite interesting, so you actually feel things?" "Yeah, but it might've just been bad food or something." She was quick to provide a false explanation as a sense of unease crept up her spine. "What do you hear then?" "Just more whispers, I can't really hear or understand what is being said, but it has an angry feel to it, or something of the like." "Quite interesting..tell me Natasha, have you ever been hypnotized?" Dr. Augustine looked at her with imploring eyes as Natasha's heart skipped a beat. "Oh, no I've never had a need or a desire to by hypnotized…" "Well, Mr. Vidic and I were thinking it might help you to remember the dreams, and then you can be at peace." "Really?" "Yes, would you like to give it a try?" "Uhmm, sure I guess." Dr. Gabriel Augustine nodded, "Well, in that case, please follow us."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

After a short trip through the halls and another room, Natasha looked around, noting the plainness. It didn't make sense until Mr. Vidic pushed a small inlay on the wall near a bookshelf, sliding open a hidden door. Her jaw dropped, "Holy cow, that's kinda cool!" As the small group walked through the small hallway, more and more caught Natasha's eyes. Everything was so plain, making the word _Abstergo _that was printed underneath an oddly shaped triangle like object stick out like a sore thumb.

"Abstergo?" "Don't worry about it."

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A/N: Oh noes! So she meets the jerkface, Warren Vidic and now she's in his territory, completely clueless about anything related to Abstergo. Things should start picking up after this, I guess I just like to add a pretty big back story or something.

And for those who wonder how I typed this up so fast, I'll just say I like to plan ahead. **Faaaar **ahead. :3

Reviews are still **_loved to death_** so please, feel free to comment, even if it is on the simple things (dont make me implemement the review requirement again lul) :]


	5. Trapped

A/N: More music..mmyyeeeessss

I do love reviews, I hope you know :D

**Disclaimer: I do not own Altaïr, (or any other products) but I however do own all thoughts, OCs, and ideas that will be held within this story.**

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Natasha looked around at the white washed walls, her panic beginning to surface, mingling with confusion. This feeling only increased the more she looked around. The windows were blocked, not light was provided except for that by the many bright white fluorescent lights. There was a slight _**whoosh**_ as another door opened. This room was not as bare as the others, but it was stranger. A table sat in the middle, and it reminded her much of the tables in the doctor's office that was always covered in that annoying paper. To the left, there was another door, to the right of the door, a window to a conference room and to the right of that, another door, presumably to the conference room. "Miss Natasha, if you'd be as so kind as to step into the room on your left. Natasha was confused, but obeyed nonetheless. "Surely they mean no harm..." She thought. That is, until the door to the small room shut behind her and locked. Frantically she began to pound on the door, scared to be alone, but craving it at the same time. "Hey! Hello? Hey someone let me out!"

_How long will you scream at the walls..._

_For someone to listen?_

_Surrender the right to resolve_

_Cause no one will listen_

Panic rising, she began to pound on the door, her fear giving her strength. She continued this for several minutes before beginning to punch the walls and doors in anger. Within a few more minutes her throat was raw from screaming and her knuckles were a vibrant shade of red, the bruises already forming. "Please let me out!"

_Confusion sets in_

_With no beginning or end_

_Frozen in place_

_The scenery's unraveling_

She flopped on the bed giving little thought to the wrinkles that were forming on the faded white sheets. The room itself wasn't exactly barren; it had some sort of locked closet, a desk with a lamp, a bed and a doorway leading to a small bathroom with a shower, toilet and sink, all of which faintly smelled of bleach. It was all the same color, white. Though some of the whites had been faded so they were not as brilliant, it was still oppressing.

_Hanging on by a thread_

_The child is screaming_

_While holding his breath_

_Hanging on by a thread_

_The child is screaming_

_While holding his breath_

The tears began to flow almost uncontrollably as darker thoughts entered her mind. What would her mom do when she didn't call? Where was she? Would she ever go home? And more importantly, why? A few choked sobs escaped her throat as she rolled over to bury her face into the pillow.

_How long will you scream at the walls..._

_For someone to listen?_

_Surrender the right to resolve_

_Cause no one will listen_

At some point she must have fallen asleep because when she got up, there was a small note left on the table. The words were printer clearly, but it was obvious that it was by a girl's hand, it looked nothing like the writing of men. Her eyes barely skimmed over the note before she grew angry once more. "You can't keep me here forever!" It came out as an awful screeching scream and it only seemed to echo off the plain white walls.

_Forever you face_

_The fear of being erased_

_No need to speak_

_They'll pass you by and wonder why_

Rage slowly claiming her vision, she rushed to the bathroom in search of a sharp object. In her mind she knew it was wrong, to always turn to cutting whenever she couldn't deal with or control her emotions, but it was a habit so deeply ingrained in her mind that she couldn't help it. Her anger surged as all she found were smooth corners and rounded objects. Whoever had developed this room made sure that no object could be used to inflict harm. Her eyes darted about, seeing the futility but also, an option. One that wasn't very pleasing, but it was an option nonetheless.

_You're hanging on by a thread_

_You throw away everything_

_From holding your breath_

_How long will you scream at the walls…_

_For someone to listen?_

_Surrender the right to resolve_

_Cause no one will listen_

Her nails. They weren't short, but they were long enough to carry out her plan. Hiking her shirt up and tucking it under her chin, Natasha raked her nails across her torso, from underneath her left breast to the beginning of her right hip. Angry red welts followed in the wake of the dangerous nails. But no blood came forth. Her rage came out in an unintelligible scream as she began repeatedly raking her nails over the same path, applying more and more pressure, until she felt it, the burning pain that flowed from the abrasion. The skin was raw and red, the wound, ugly.

_Biting your tongue_

_The top of your lungs_

_Biting_

_Biting_

_Biting your tongue_

_How long will you scream at the walls..._

_For someone to listen?_

_Surrender the right to resolve_

_Cause no one will listen_

A sick smile played over her face as she dropped her shirt back down, flinching only slightly at the painful contact. And that's when she heard the _**whoosh**_ of the door to her prison being opened. "Miss Natasha." It was Dr. Augustine. "I'm terribly sorry for the wait you had to endure, but we had to make sure everything was in working order. And don't worry, we've already contacted your mother and she's perfectly fine with you staying here for the time being." Natasha couldn't control how her eyes widened in fear. Her mother would say something like that? She approached the man at the door and he kindly stepped out of the way, walking over towards the doctor like table. The young woman standing behind what looked like a laptop attached to a stand on the table glanced up from her work. "Hello Natasha." Her voice was warm and friendly, much unlike Vidic's and more comforting than Dr. Augustine's. Then she heard Vidic, his voice strained as if trying to control his impatience. "Hop on up to the table." Natasha obeyed and instinctively lay back, resting her head on what could only be described as a metal pillow. A slight tingle ran up her spine and neck, slowly growing warmer until it was almost unbearable. Then a curved glass shield slowly passed over her face, and within moments of locking on the other side, strange symbols and figures began to appear. But before she could question what it was, Vidic spoke once more. "This is the Animus. It is a relatively new invention that we are testing to see if it provides better results than conventional hypnotism." He was lying straight through his teeth, but what did he care, as long as he got what he wanted. Her eyebrows rose in question, but Natasha accepted his explanation.

She could hear the slight humming in her ears, but already her mine began to tune that out. Slowly, images began to play, the colors so vibrant and the noises so close, Natasha began to wonder if it was real. A searing pain down her back snapped here away from the images, but not entirely. She could hear the rising voice of Vidic. "What is going on? Why isn't it working?" "I..I don't know, I think it might be overheating, the controls aren't responding and I can't pull her out!"

There it was again, the searing pain that ran down her back, this time she felt it slowly creep into every appendage. Natasha's face contorted into a grimace as she felt the fire rush through her veins and then, blissful darkness overtook her.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Bright light and the warmth of the sun roused Natasha. Since she was desperate for more sleep, Natasha scrunched her eyes shut even tighter. Her right shoulder was partially numb and the slightest movements sent pain coursing through her body. That was not the only issue; her legs were tingling as if blood flow had just returned to them. A smile played on her face almost unconsciously as the inhaled the comforting scent of hay. Her eyes shot open.

"Hay?"

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

A/N: Thing have finally started picking up! Yay!

I swear, if this is boring you..welllll...I hope the next chapter will be ah-mah-zing. Well, in my mind it's pretty decent.

I added a little twist to the Animus, seeing as how you never really get the idea of if the experience is painful. Since I'm not going to spend the time to explain in the story as to what happened, I'll explain here.

Something caused the Animus to malfunction and become unresponsive. Ultimately, instead of allowing her to view the 'genetic memories' it pulled her into them entirely, leaving no trace of Natasha behind. Like time travel, I guess.

The concept of time travel is so cliché in my mind however, but I figured that this was a better alternative than being sucked into a game. (Like what had happened before I decided to re-write this).


	6. The White Knight

A/N: My title is actually kinda a misnomer, seeing as how he isn't a _**knight**_ but, I figured it'd do. (That'll do pig, that'll do.)

It's long, I hope it's good. Please I wish to hear your thoughts. What am I doing wrong? Doing right?

More music..mmyyeeeessss.

On a side, side note: I saw Phantom of the Opera (the play) for the second time! And I still cried and got teary eyed (and so did all the people behind me…) I can't believe the tour is gonna be over on Halloween…

I am giving you all a fair warning…

**This chapter will not be pretty… (or will it?)**

**Disclaimer: I do ****not**** own Altaïr, (or any other products) but I however do own all thoughts, OCs, and ideas that will be held within this story.**

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

"Where am I?"

The hay that surrounded Natasha's body suddenly seemed oppressive and it acted somewhat as insulation, quickly bringing the temperature up to one that was most uncomfortable, even for her. Even the comforting and slightly musty smell seemed overpowering now. Sending her one good arm out in search to find what her boundaries were, Natasha cried out in pain as the slight movement jostled her other arm, threatening to send tears down her face. Judging from the walls her hand hit, she seemed to be in some kind of cart and one that was quite stationary which was much to her pleasure.

Gritting her teeth, Natasha slowly rolled and scooted to the closest edge with her left arm trying to keep her right arm immobilized. First went one leg, then the other and then she just kind of fell off the side of the cart, hitting the ground with an undignified thump. "Well, at least it wasn't that far of a fall." She mused, resisting the urge to laugh even though nothing was funny. Looking down at her clothes, Natasha frowned slightly; they were covered in a copious amount of hay. So focused on her task of removing the bits of hay from her entire body and attempting to brush the light dust that settled on her black shirt and white shorts was she, that Natasha failed to hear the slight clinking sound of metal bumping against metal. And when she did notice, it was too late. She heard gruff shouts in a tongue that was extremely foreign to her ears.

And that's when she decided to look up, which could be considered a mistake in itself. "Holy Jesus H. Christ on a popsicle stick." The men that now stood a few mere feet away were well armed. After a brief glance over, Natasha decided that well armed wasn't the proper word. Heavily armed was more like it. Nearly all of them wore helmets of some sort with dangerous looking swords dangling from their sides. Their bodies were covered in what looked like chainmail, with only enough gaps to allow the wearer's joints to move freely. As she tried her best to look inconspicuous, Natasha knew deep down, that her efforts were futile. Seeing the way they dressed compared to her own clothes, well, she must have stuck out like a sore thumb. The men were speaking again, their foreign language still making absolutely no sense. She was tempted to ask, "Parlez-vous français." But then realized that would be no help, considering that was like the only thing she knew how to say in French. So instead, with a sick sense of hope, she tried her native tongue. "**Vy gavarite pa Russki?"** (1) This only earned extremely confused looks from the men before one of them drew his sword, the metal singing as it was freed from the sheath. Again they spoke, their tones harsh and speaking of violence. And again, she too spoke. **"Ya ne panimaju!"**(2)

And then, the words started to form into English. It was only tiny tidbits at first, but it was all Natasha needed to hear in order to act. "…_Kill her."_

Her heart sped up and adrenaline began to course through her veins. Flight took over fight, and that's what she did. She ran, as fast as her feet would allow, the sandals pulling painfully at her feet but they remained intact. Natasha could hear them running behind her, though she didn't dare to glance back in fear of running into something. From the sounds of pounding feet and numerous voices, she decided more guards started in on the chase. The clamor of the church bells certainly was no help. Her streetside sprint was beginning to take its toll, her body wearing down, overheating, her feet crying out for her to stop the madness and her right shoulder and arm began to send waves of pain throughout her body.

She sped around a corner tripping over some of the women that walked slowly as to not drop the jars above their heads. Natasha hit the ground, the women and her jar fell on top of her, the pottery shattering and sending bits flying everywhere. Luckily only a few pieces of the pottery embedded themselves into Natasha's body. With a groan of pain, she heaved herself to her feet, her head reeling and her right shoulder and arm now sending constant waves of pain -she hoped she hadn't damaged it too badly- trying to ignore the blood that ran freely as she hobbled as fast as she could, leaving a small trail of blood.

It wasn't long before Natasha was faced with an extremely large dilemma. Either go back to the guards and be killed or find a way to get past this dead end. Her eyes darted around, trying to find a ladder, a whole in the wall, something that would provide her with escape. She found no luck, only the smooth sides of the sandy colored buildings surrounded her, and now the guards did as well.

One guard made a hasty step forward, his speech still coming through as broken English in her mind. It took him all but a few seconds to grab her and it took too many more seconds for Natasha to react. She screamed, much like a banshee, and flailed her legs and arm about wildly; even the lightly gloved hand that quickly clapped over her mouth was assaulted. It didn't take long for her hands and nails to become bloody as she swiped at the chain mailed guards, their armor making little tears in the palms of her hands and occasionally breaking her nails. But still, she persisted, leaving blood over the bright silver. Furious at the futility of her fight, she turned her attention to the hand that muffled her scream and so Natasha sank her teeth into the man's hand, refusing to let go. In surprise, the man tried to jerk his, hand away, only to discover that Natasha had quite efficiently latched on and was now growling softly.

Within moments of the guard's attempt to free his hand, something very heavy hit the back of Natasha's head and she stumbled forward, her bite loosening. She didn't stumble very far seeing as how another guard had grabbed her, but this one was smarter. He managed to restrain both his arms with one of his own large hands. Almost all the fight had left her now as she slouched against her captor, panting. This other guard took advantage of this and let his free hand wander about her body to the hem of her shirt. He seemed almost interested in the cotton fabric, but not for long and he quickly pulled the shirt up, revealing her pale skin marked by the angry red abrasions inflicted by her own nails and the few silvery scars that were randomly placed and much harder to see than the bright pink one that ran down her side. The guard let his hand trail across the bare skin, almost marveling at how it seemed to quiver beneath his touch. The moment she felt the foreign hand trail all over her stomach, Natasha's breath caught in her throat. The guard spoke again, to his comrades. From the broken words, the dark tone and the look in the eyes of the other guards, Natasha had only a small inkling of what would come. It was only confirmed when the broken English came through once more, _"…pretty to waste…" _Panic surged once more, but no amount of thrashing seemed to bring her any closer to freedom. "Fuck my couch." And with that, she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to prepare herself for the inevitable.

But it never came. Instead, she felt herself falling, falling and then she came in contact with the ground. There was a heavy weight on her back and she dared not move as screams of pain echoed in her ears, mingling with the sound of metal versus metal as well as the horrible sound of flesh ripping. And then, all was silent once more aside from a few whimpers that found their way out of they dying men. Natasha shifted, trying to move the deadweight that had her pinned, and after a few moments of excruciating pain, she managed to free half her body, barely enough to roll onto her back and scream. The scene was horrible; the dead bodies of the guards littered the ground, their blood flowing freely, including the blood of the guard that had her pinned. A shiver wracked her body as she felt and saw the blood all over herself and her clothes, but not all of it was that of the guards. Freeing the rest of her body, Natasha promptly curled up into the fetal position, focusing on nothing but at the same time, seeing everything. The man in white robes wasn't far off, but he seemed more fixated on cleaning the blood from one of his knives than paying attention to her. Then, blissful sleep claimed her.

It didn't last for long as she felt a sharp pain fly up her shin, forcing her eyes to snap open and stare feebly at the robed man who stood before her. This time, it wasn't panic that rose, it was bile. Turning away from the man, the contents of her stomach were forcibly emptied onto the ground. Suddenly embarrassed she turned back around, still hugging her knees to her chest, "Sorry…" And then glancing up at the mysterious man, Natasha began to move. It was with extreme caution that Natasha uncurled herself, and in anything but a jiffy, she managed to stand on her legs, albeit unsteadily. Her hand fumbled for something to grab as she felt herself falling, but instead of finding purchase, she felt her body being slammed against the side of a building forcing a sharp yelp from her mouth as her head cracked against the solid object. The man's face was hidden, but his voice had a rough-edged, almost elegant quality about it, but it seemed to suit the man's volatile nature. "Hush! If you continue to squeal like a stuck pig, more guards will come and I do believe I don't feel like saving your skin again." Natasha dared not to look him in the eye as he spoke so instead, she centered her vision on the scar that ran across his lips. His almost beautiful full lips… Natasha let her mind wander, only to be snapped back into reality with the cold blade pressing lightly into her throat. "Well?" The man growled. She shook her head slightly, "I'm sorry, what did you say?" This infuriated the man. "I will repeat myself once more. Tell me why I should not kill you." "Because I won't tell anyone?" She tried to tilt her head, and she raised her eyebrows in hopes of some sort of leniency. "And what is it you know that you claim not to tell? You have moments before I make sure your life is over." "That you uh..killed the guards." A low hiss escaped him as his hidden blade withdrew from her neck. It took all of Natasha's self control not to stare as she decided what part was more peculiar, the hidden blade or the fact he was missing part of his finger, probably because of the blade. But he was not finished making threats, not by a long shot. "You will come with me. If you make any sort of fuss I will personally assure you that my blade will end up in your back." Natasha nodded, but fear still had claim of her functioning body parts. Her hesitance to move brought his impatience to a new level. "Girl, come here." "I have a na-" "I do not recall asking for your name. I told you to come here." She let out a grumble as she shambled towards him, her legs almost refusing to take another step. It seemed to Natasha that no matter how fast she shuffled, it would not be fast enough for this man. She felt the man grab her arm and drag her forward, causing her to stumble with her only savior being the foul tempered man that retained his grip on her arm. It was his turn to let out a noise of frustration. "You move slower than a lame horse." He growled and Natasha braced herself for another reprimand, but it never came. Instead the man softened his voice, if only by a little. "Wrap your arms around my neck. But should you make a single move that I find to be threatening, consider yourself gone." Natasha gave a brief nod before carefully clambering up his back, latching on the best she could with her one good arm. He hoisted her legs father up, eliciting a hiss of pain as her right arm was jostled again. But other than that, she said nothing and wrapped her legs around his waist, hoping that he wouldn't need any weapons that were situated there. The hooded man didn't wait for her to really situate herself before he began his impaired journey to his destination.

_Spend all your time waiting_

_For that second chance_

_For a break that would make it okay_

_There's always one reason_

_To feel not good enough_

_And it's hard at the end of the day_

Natasha stared at the ground in front of them blankly, making feeble attempts to process everything that had just happened. She was unfamiliar with this city, as well as everything else, and the fact that she was alone in a sense, truly scared her. "Uhm, Mister, where are we going?" She felt childish talking like this, but she hoped it would give him reason to answer her, but she had no such luck, seeing as how the gruff response was, "The Bureau." "The wha?" It slipped before she could stop it and then the tension in the air became almost tangible. The man almost shook his head and continued to slowly make his way to the Assassin's Bureau. He knew he was going to receive some sort of snide comment about the girl from his comrade. And that was one thing he was not looking forward to.

_I need some distraction_

_Oh beautiful release_

_Memory seeps from my veins_

_Let me be empty_

_And weightless and maybe_

_I'll find some peace tonight_

Without any prior warning, the man released his grip on Natasha's legs and she almost fell, nearly bringing the man down with her. "By all means, feel free to release your grip. I presume you can make it the rest of the way without too much assistance?" "Yeeaaaah, I guess." This did nothing to reassure the hooded man, who now had more spots of dried blood on his once pristine white robe. "You continue to aggravate me, I do not wish for this to end up ugly. Just listen to me. I am going to climb down and then you will climb down as well. Do not attempt to flee." Natasha glanced at him and then the hole in the roof, "We're climbing down that?" "Yes."

_In the arms of an angel_

_Fly away from here_

_From this dark cold hotel room_

_And the endlessness that you fear_

_You are pulled from the wreckage_

_Of your silent reverie_

The mysterious scrambled down the side of the wall with practiced ease, hand nor foot never slipping for a hold. Natasha on the other hand was much less nearly paralyzed with fear. "I…I don't think I can make it down that…my hand might not hold…" The fear had even crept into her voice. But the unseen glare from the man told her otherwise. Gingerly, she scooted over the side, her belly hugging the ground and her feet searching for their first ledge. Minutes ticked by and she had made it about a quarter of the way down before realizing that there was a rather high chance of her fingers slipping at any time. A quick glance down told her that if she ended up falling, she had a decent chance of landing in the plants and not getting too severely hurt. But just from glancing down, her fingers seemed to have loosened their grip. "Can you catch?" "Yes…why?" "Because I'll probably not be able to hold on much longer." As if on cue, her bloodied hands slipped, sending her flying towards the ground, giving the man a millisecond to react. He stepped forward to catch her, grunting from the weight of her impact.

_You're in the arms of the angel_

_May you find some comfort there_

"Altaïr! Why do you make such a ruckus out there? You are no better than an undisciplined child!" A man called out from the room behind the open doorway, chiding the now named man that had dropped Natasha to the ground before he walked into the adjacent room. The unseen man continued his verbal barrage leaving Altaïr no chance to respond, "And it looks as though you rolled in the dirt with the beggars! Have you no decency for what you are?" "Malik, I did not come to be scolded. I come because I require your aid." "So the mighty Altaïr is human after all and admits to needing help. Wonderful!" The unseen man sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

At that point, Natasha's curiosity got the better of her as she hobbled over to the doorless doorframe. She peered around the corner to see if the two men's verbal altercation had turned into something physical. Her eyes widened as she saw the other man, clad in black robes over white with one sleeve pinned back. Then it dawned on her, this man only had one arm! Unfortunately for her, the one armed man, Malik, -she presumed that was his name from listening to the conversation- saw her at the moment she saw him and whirled back to Altaïr, "You bring an outsider to the inside?"

_So tired of the straight line_

_And everywhere you turn_

_There's vultures and thieves at your back_

_And the storm keeps on twisting_

_You keep on building the lie_

_That you make up for all that you lack_

_It don't make no difference_

_Escaping one last time_

Altaïr sighed. "I said I required your assistance and that is why." But Malik had already stormed out to corner the terrified and blood covered girl in the plants. "Do not hide like a coward! Come and face me girl!" He stared her down between the plant fronds as Altaïr strode over. "Perhaps threatening doesn't always work Malik. If one fears for their life, they have no reason to come face their doom." He faced the red haired girl whose green eyes were wide with fear, "Come out child, he won't hurt you, nor will I. The death of an innocent looks bad on our hands."

_It's easier to believe in this sweet madness oh_

_This glorious sadness that brings me to my knees_

Natasha scooted out from behind the plants and Malik's arm reached out, snagging her by the hair and pulling her roughly inside before shoving her to the ground. Fear was once more evident in her green eyes as Malik glared her down, interrogating her mercilessly.

"Where are you from? Why are you here? Who sent you?" Natasha's first reply was hugging her knees to her chest and trying to burrow her head. Though he only had one arm, Malik was still intimidating, and rather strong. He let out a snarl and reached to grab her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "I swear, I don't wanna hurt you guys, I can't hurt you anyways! Ask Altaïr, he more or less saved me from the guards." She stumbled over the foreign name and then tipped her head towards Altaïr in thanks, giving him a slight shock as she spoke his name. But Malik was still unsatisfied. "You didn't answer my questions girl." This time Altaïr stepped in, whispering something into Malik's ear, thus starting a whispering war, she assumed that he was telling Malik about the incident, in detail. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as realization dawned upon her that Altaïr had most likely seen everything. At last Malik seemed to give up and Altaïr helped Natasha to her feet, leading her to the back of the room.

_In the arms of an angel_

_Fly away from here_

_From this dark cold hotel room_

_And the endlessness that you fear_

_You are pulled from the wreckage_

_Of your silent reverie_

For now the pair was out of earshot from Malik. Before Altaïr had the chance to speak, Natasha snapped. "Oh no, I speak first, 'cause once you start getting' pissy, you don't shut up." She paused, only to inhale, "What the hell is with you anyways? You poppin' happy pills or some shit? One second you're off threatening to kill me, the next you're keeping Malik from ripping me a new one." Altaïr had a slightly puzzled look on his face, as if he didn't quite understand everything she was saying. Natasha finished her spiel with a glare and then rubbed her head. It wasn't the first, nor the last time she would verbally snap at someone, -especially with her current lack of medication- and she hoped that it wouldn't lead to a total mental breakdown, in which she truly snapped. "Urghhh, alright, I'm this glorious mess is totally not your fault. So let us go back to square one and pretend this shitfest didn't happen, ok?" Natasha looked up at Altaïr hopefully; he nodded his approval, although the slight tilt of his head gave away his confusion. She inhaled, "Alright, I've already picked up your name from various conversations, so it's only fair if you learn my name. I'm Natasha."

_You're in the arms of the angel_

_May you find some comfort there_

_You're in the arms of the angel_

_May you find some comfort here_

Altaïr looked at Natasha, his brows furrowed as he worked on figuring out a solution. "Natasha you are, ah how do I put it, extremely out of place if you will. You dress like a man, speak confusing words and act like the exact opposite of the epitome of a woman. There is no in between here, it is either or, not both. It is your choice whether you wish to pass as man or woman, but neither is perfect. But keep in mind; no matter your decision I will not watch over you, you are an innocent, nothing more. You will receive no special treatment and you will make your own way and learn to live as others do." Altaïr looked at the girl with a critical eye, "What is your decision?"

She scratched at her neck, unsure. She knew little about the time period and the roles of women, but if it was anything like the American and world history books that she had read in class, women were rather oppressed to a certain degree. "I'll try and pass as a man I guess." Her voice betrayed her sureness. Altaïr only gave her a curt nod. "If that is your choice. I can gather a few items of clothes from Malik, but nothing more. You have to alter yourself completely and leave your old name and life behind." "I know." "Good." "Wait, can I choose my name?" Two sets of eyes focused in on her, "I mean...it's only fair, it is my life that I'm giving up…" "No." "Why?" It came out as a childish whine. "I said no. Trust in that I have my reasons." Altaïr walked back to Malik and motioned to Natasha, "Maimun* will require some clothes to get him by." Malik snorted upon hearing the new name, "An interesting choice brother."

A small bundle consisting of clothes, bandages and a knife was none too gently tossed over to Natasha. She looked at the knife and bandages, raising an eyebrow. " Uhh what are these fo-" "The knife is so you can deal with your hair, the bandages are for binding." "Binding?" A few seconds ticked by, and then it clicked, "Oh! Right, right!" She waved a finger in the air, "I gotcha, don't worry."

Natasha, now Maimun, moved to the back of the room and fiddled with the knife, letting the clean blade run over her skin. "This is gonna be akward." She muttered before speaking up, "Uhm, is there a place I can shower?" Seeing the confused looks on the face of both men she continued, "Uhm, y'know, bathe?" The looks were less confused now, but only slightly.

It didn't take too terribly long to wash the blood from her body, but of course, one can only clean so fast when all they have is a small bowl of water and some rags. It took much longer trying to remove the embedded pieces of pottery from her lower appendages. It was awkward, being in the buff with two strange men, even though she made them swear not to look. It took some convincing, a few choice words and the men finally turned their backs.

The knife was gripped firmly in one hand and with awkward, jerky motions; she managed to cut her hair much shorter. But it was still around shoulder to neck length, which was most likely far too long. Natasha set the blade in her lap, resisting the urge to do what she always did. A slight shiver ran through her body making her hair stand on end. She grabbed the bandages that were to be used as a chest biding and looked at them hopelessly. After several failed attempts to wrap the bandages around her, she let out a frustrated huff, nabbing the attention of the men. "There is no way in hell that I'll ever be able to figure this out." Altaïr looked at Malik who had a brow raised in question, before they both turned their gaze back to the creamy skin of Natasha's back. The watched without abandon as her muscles rippled and flexed under the fair skin. Altaïr and Malik couldn't exactly help glancing at the figure, not only because they were curious but because their line of work, they had very little time for women. Natasha was oblivious to their looks, assuming that both men were supposedly turned around. Another frustrated _**hmph**_ as Natasha threw the binding to the ground, crossing her one good arm over her bare chest, much like a child preparing to throw a tantrum. "I give up. There's no hope. I hate this." The frustrated girl stood and spun around, her arm still hiding what she deemed as _"important parts"_.

The men kept their surprise in check as they saw the pink scar on her side and the four crimson scores that ran from her breast to her hip. Seeing their expression she narrowed her eyes. "Don't ask. Now, can one of ye kind gents be a dearie and help me with my predicament?" She almost burst out laughing in the middle of her sentence, the chance to mimic a granny and an Irishman's accent at the same time was irresistible. Malik looked at Altaïr who let out an inward groan as he was handed the bandages. He walked up to the red haired youth and deftly grabbed her shoulders to spin her around, causing Natasha to let out a very loud cry of pain. This concerned Malik because if it was an injury that could somehow result in her death, then he would lose the precious few supplies that he had given to her. However Altaïr only grunted. "Arms up." "But I…I can't move my right arm, it hurts too much!" The white robed man sighed. "Do your best then." She raised her arms to the best of her extent, biting back a soft whimper. Altaïr glanced at her raised arms, noting the fine silvery lines that seemed to coat them, but he decided against asking. As Natasha stood with her arms up, another small shiver ran down her spine. It was awkward yet comforting at the same time to feel the heat radiating from the man's body and the warm breath that slowly caressed her neck… Her mind left her, going on some unknown journey as Altaïr's rough hands deftly wrapped the bandages around her breasts. He had no qualms with his strong fingers accidentally brushing against her skin; it was a natural thing, to touch people and to be touched. The whole scene felt like it took longer than it should and when Natasha finally returned to her senses her cheeks turned a brilliant red as she blushed. "Th…thanks."

It took Natasha much longer to get the shirt over her head and injured arm, but eventually, she got the baggy article of clothing on. It was much more challenging than the pants that she had slipped on earlier. But it was better than her old and bloody clothes that lay in a disgraceful heap that was kicked to one side of the room, unsure of what to do with them. "Uhm… thanks again." Malik nodded slightly, beckoning for her to return his knife. It was easy to see an emotion akin to sadness cross her face as she returned the blade by its hilt. "Now seeing as how you've improved your appearance to one that suits you, and that you are clothed and clean, we request that you answer a few of our own questions, and in turn, we may answer some of yours."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

A/N: Scandalous! (Don't worry; she had pants on before the binding incident)

Holy poop, this chapter is god-awfully long (about 10, more like 11 pages, but who's counting, I'm not! Okay, well yeah. I am), but it's for the best, amirite? I tried not to break the chapter and an awkward point, so that might explain as to why it is so lengthy. So I realize that Altaïr might have been out of character in the last part, but I couldn't have some magical aide come rushing in to do it for her, and to me, chest binding isn't exactly common knowledge (in my opinion).

I actually had something important to say here, but I seem to have forgotten. Oh! Right! I chose the name because I wanted to try and keep the names within the same culture and whatnot. And also, I have absolutely no clue how people bathed back then, other than the fact that I doubt they washed as often as us, so I kinda winged it on that part.

Also, yes Natasha is quite battered, many scrapes, cuts bruises and embedded pieces of pottery, but let me explain her right arm and shoulder (it is one of the many injuries I have received). When she fell into the hay (no she didn't magically appear in the hay, nor did she fall from the highest building, so lets just say it was about a 5 foot fall) her shoulder was slammed into the solid bottom of the cart and thus the arm was quite forcefully jammed into the socket. I don't know how to describe the extent of the damage (muscle, or nerve damage etc) but what I do no it that anything that bumps or even brushes that arm causes pain. She can't grab things very will, or even pick up objects that are slightly heavy. So for now, until her arm heals, she is stuck trying to use her left arm.

If you want an example (real life) of how incapacitating that is, imagine this. You're walking into the little mini mart at the gas station and you head to the section where all the bottled beverages are. Now surely you think those aren't heavy, and they're easy to get out. Wrong, it is one of the most painful things that I had tried to do. I couldn't even lift the small bottle of soda, let alone try and pull it up and out, that's how much pain this can cause.

Hopefully that makes some bit sense.

* Natasha is now called Maimun (only when in public), sorry for pulling a name change on you folks. Altaïr called her a male due to the fact she just willingly gave up her name and female being in a way. The only time you will hear her being referred to as a male is when they speak of her outside of the Bureau.

(1) Do you speak Russian?  
(2) I don't understand!

I would also like to hear **_your thoughts _**on this chapter _**especially**_… :3


	7. The Truth

A/N: No song! Yay?

Wow, who would've known that life is so short? Never take a day for granted because you never know what you've got until you lost it.

Rest In Paradise T.D.

**Disclaimer: I do ****not**** own Altaïr, (or any other products) but I however do own all thoughts, OCs, and ideas that will be held within this story.**

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

"Questions?" She gulped. In her mind questions always lead to unwanted information, information that others did not really need to know, and most of all, it was just awkward. "Yes. Questions. We feel that it is only fair for you to answer ours, seeing as how we risk our own security by bringing your battered body inside here." Natasha's lip curled in distaste. "Fine. I'll answer your questions but don't expect them to be honest." "Well if we should expect lies for an answer, you should kindly expect a blade lodged in your lifeless body." Natasha narrowed her eyes at Altaïr, wondering as to why his solution to everything was to threaten death. "I shall be the first to question then." It was Altaïr who spoke again.

"What happened that would cause scars to swathe your body?" "Don't worry abou-" Her sentence was cut short as she heard the hidden blade slide forth. "Oh this is so not fair." "Answer." "I'm a cutter." She held up a finger to silence his question. "I did this, I would cut my own skin to help me through harder times." Malik tilted his head and muttered, "This child is not right in the head." Altaïr's hood hid his questioning gaze, but Natasha could almost feel his eyes boring into her. "If I don't have a knife, then I used my nails, which explains the freshest set." At last the man seemed satisfied.

It was Malik's turn. "Where do you hail from?" It took a while before Natasha could figure out what he meant and then she shrugged. "It depends on what your definition of home is I s'ppose." "In that case, where is you home?" "Wherever I can lay my head without danger." Malik's eyebrows arched, "What country do you come from then?" Natasha ignored the fact that he had asked two questions, not one, and proceeded to answer. "I was born in Russia, Smolensk to be more specific." The men tilted their heads. "It's far, far away from here I guess."

Back to Altaïr. "How did you get here?" She rubbed the back of her head. "Ehh, I don't really know, the last thing I remember was being in the Animus, pain and then I was here." "Animus?" "I don't know how to explain it, it's some weird contraption doohickey." She looked at them both. "My turn. What year is it, and were am I?" "You are in Jerusalem. The year is 1191 A.D." Her eyes widened, "Good god." Noticing their expressions, she stated. "I'm from 2013 A.D." It was their turn to be properly startled.

The questioning session continued for quite some time, and Natasha grudgingly told them more about herself as well as her history, explaining in depth when one of them would tilt their head or raise their eyebrows.

And then the fateful question came. "So what do you guys do? I mean, Mister Death Threat over here has got waaay too many weapons to be some average Joe." The tension came back, this time Natasha was almost sure that it was solid. "Eerrrrrr, wrong question, forgive me." Neither of the men seemed to forgiving, but it was Malik who spoke, rather softly at that. "Hashshashin." It went in cycles, of who would be confused, and now it was Natasha's turn, again. The one armed man clarified. "Assassins." Her mouth formed a small "o" as it started to click into place. "Well that explains pretty much everything…" Tucking her legs underneath her, Natasha slowly got to her knees and then stood shakily. "So uhm…what am I supposed to do?" "Live like the others." "Let me rephrase that. I have no clue how to live like your people, so could you possibly give tips and tricks? Y'know, a few pointers?" "Perhaps later, but now the night comes, and we must retire to bed." "Ohh…can I stay here for the night? If not I'll find somewhere else to stay, it doesn't really matter." Malik nodded, it was his place to say if she could stay or not. He sighed and tapped on the table. "It would be a major risk to our safety to allow you to stay here in case someone was after you." Natasha nodded, understanding, "Well, in that case, peace out girl scout!" She said, faking the joy and smile that was on her face. It wasn't until she was out of the room that she realized she would have to climb back up the wall to get out. Mentally preparing herself, she hopped up onto the small fountain like thing and scrambled to hook her fingers on one of the ridges as she stepped up.

Malik and Altaïr watched the injured girl and her attempt to climb, and something inside of Malik softened. "Child, come down from there, you'll only injure yourself further." He stepped forward and aided the girl in lowering herself back to the ground. "You can sleep out here." She nodded "But what about that?" She motioned upwards towards the lattice top with the wide opening when her words failed her. "It will be left open, fear not, the only ones who come through that are fellow brothers." Natasha nodded, feeling stupid all of a sudden. "Of course there would be others!" She mentally chided herself as she glanced at the small pile of pillows against the wall. "Well, it's better than nothing, or the floor," she murmured, stepping in that direction.

It didn't take long for Natasha to get comfortable. She had shoved most of the pillows out of the way, only using one of them to rest her head upon. The cool fabric was comforting, but it only reminded her of home. She rolled from her side onto her back to stare up at the sky and marvel at how many stars were visible. There was a gentle breeze now, the cool air caressing her skin causing her to smile. It didn't take much longer for her to sleep into a blissful sleep.

Altaïr and Malik continued to discuss things as Natasha slept the night away. "What are we to do with her?" "As I said before, she will lead a new life here." "Brother, do you really think she can adapt that easily? She comes from different places all together!" Altaïr looked at Malik, his voice lowered, "I do not know brother, but something tells me to trust her and to try." The whimpers that Natasha produced attracted the attention of the men rather quickly. As they peered outside to see her sleeping form sprawled out on the ground, her jaw muscles clenching and unclenching repeatedly. Altaïr's eyebrows rose as he studied the sleeping girl before glancing back at Malik. "It seems she is a troubled sleeper," the one armed man commented dryly. Altaïr snorted softly, "Indeed." He cast another glance back at Natasha and all the discarded pillows that were strewn about before walking over to gather a few in his arms. She had claimed his sleeping spot, but there was still plenty more room in other places. In a few quick seconds, Altaïr had made his makeshift bed and promptly fell asleep.

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The sun still had hours to rise by the time Altaïr had arisen, duly noting that at some point during the night, Natasha had scooted over in his direction by at least several inches. He shrugged it off, knowing that most people most likely did move around in their sleep. From the quiet rustlings coming from the other room, Altaïr knew that Malik was already wide awake and proceeding with his daily routine. Stretching his limbs Altaïr made his way over to the doorway to observe Malik, who was busy making his maps. "Ah brother, you have woken. I began to wonder," Malik commented wryly without even needing to glance up at the assassin that stood silently in the doorframe. Bracing his one hand mere inches away from the new map, Malik spoke once more. "Perhaps you should continue gathering the necessary information for your mark, Talal." Altaïr nodded in understanding before leaving the room. Upon climbing the wall to exit the Bureau he cast one last glance at the sleeping girl and a smile tugged at his lips and then he vanished.

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The rising sun had painted the few clouds a heavenly pink and orange long before Natasha finally awoke. By now the sun was high in the sky, glaring down upon the people of the city. Rolling to her side, Natasha laboriously got to her feet, stumbling towards the doorway in a state of confusion. After nearly faceplanting into the doorframe, Natasha finally managed to get a grip with her left hand causing her knuckles to slowly turn white. Eyes that were heavy with sleep looked at Malik, who was trying not to scowl at the girl. "Mmfff good morning," her voice was raspy and it was clear that she just woke up. Natasha rubbed her eyes furiously and looked around sleepily, "Where's Altaïr?" Her question was ended with a yawn. Malik looked at the tired girl before speaking, "He went to take care of some of his business." Natasha grunted in acknowledgement, the man did have a life after all. Even though she had slept for a good number of hours, Natasha could not shake the feeling of fatigue. Plopping ungracefully onto the floor, Natasha crossed her legs and braced her back against the wall. Her head felt fuzzy, every inch of her body ached and her mind slowly began to drift off towards thoughts of sleep. But even as fatigued as she was, Natasha couldn't just doze off. Instead she just sat, staring blankly at the world around her. As she stared off into space, Natasha began having a silent conversation with herself. _"When was the last time you ate?" "Probably like a day or more ago, I think." "Why aren't you hungry?" "I'm just not." "Do you have your medication?" "No…"_ She let out a weak sigh,_ "Well that explains everything…"_ Without her medication, Natasha wasn't sure what would happen. There hadn't been a recent time where she stopped taking her depression and bipolar medication, and now she feared what would happen, not only to herself but to the people that surrounded her.

She must have dozed off for a while because when she opened her eyes again, the sun had passed its peak and was slowly sinking back towards the horizon. That wasn't her only clue to how long she slept, seeing as how Altaïr was back, and quietly discussing things with Malik. Neither of the two men seemed especially pleased with each other. Their heads snapped around upon hearing the angry rumble of Natasha's empty stomach that she had tried unsuccessfully to silence. "Eheh…hi guys…" she managed to stammer out, her cheeks flushing a rosy red color. Malik snorted, "The clamor of the bells failed to wake her, yet an empty stomach would, curious." She glared at him and there was a multitude of popping sounds that came from her joints as Natasha rose to her feet and stretched the sleep from her bones. Looking at Altaïr she spoke again, "Can you teach me to live? As the people of this city do?" She only received a grunt in response, which she translated as _"tomorrow"_. "Fine, but you had best keep your word mister." Another grunt.

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A/N: My apologies for a _**very**_ short chapter, but I can't focus on things right now. Please bear with me.


	8. Pas De Cheval

A/N:

**lonernekonin:** Your reviews really do bring a smile to my face :3

**Asura: **I'm so glad you caught my silly little mistake, sometimes I forget :]

And of course,

**Lionpawheart: **Because you're just awesome, and the fact you were able to help me with my Russian translations, I give you oodles of thanks as well. :D

**Disclaimer: I do ****not**** own Altaïr, (or any other products) but I however do own all thoughts, OCs, and ideas that will be held within this story.**

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The sun hadn't climbed very high in the sky when a heavy hand fell on Natasha's shoulder, startling her to a state of alertness. It took a few moments for her eyesight to focus, but when she saw the white robes a sigh of relief escaped from her mouth. However that did nothing to calm her pounding heart. "Altaïr, are you trying to kill me?" The hooded man let out a dignified huff but it did nothing to hide the slight twitch of his lips. "Come, the day has risen and you claim to wish to know how to live, as we do." Natasha rolled to her feet as the man left the room, presumably to gather things from Malik, who was already hard at work. It took a few moments for Altaïr to return and when he did he held two small packs, one for himself and the other for Natasha. "Let us be on our way before the roads become more crowded." He didn't wait for a response as he scaled the wall out of the Bureau leaving a somewhat distraught Natasha at the bottom. "Uhh, I can't really climb that y'know." Altaïr only glared at her which served as a strange form of motivation. Forcing the pain out of her mind, Natasha lifted her arm and grabbed onto a small handhold and proceeded up the wall. It felt like an eternity to the assassin and his impatience did not help. When the girl had finally managed to climb out, Altaïr deftly grabbed her arm and dragged her along at a brisk pace before sliding down a rather tall ladder. She paused for a split second before climbing down the ladder after the assassin although it was at a much slower pace.

The streets were almost empty of life and only a few people were actually out and about proceeding with their daily routine. This was not true for the guards, they were still ever present and a new shift had just started so these guards were rather awake and observant of the quiet world around them. Natasha's eyebrows shot up as they approached the front gate of the city, which was heavily guarded. "How are we supposed to get passed?" She hissed, only to receive no acknowledgement other than the quick flick of the fingers telling her to hush and wait a moment. Altaïr easily scaled some scaffolding that was pressed up against the sturdy walls before leaping to a small wooden beam, a good several feet above the heads of the guards. Natasha looked up at the man quizzically and almost worriedly as he easily flew from beam to beam before leaping to latch onto a metal rod and use his momentum to sail over the guards' heads before landing with a light _**thump**_ on the grassy ground. Once more panic began to rise in Natasha as the assassin didn't bother to look back as he walked away. She inhaled slowly, her shaky breath betraying her nervousness. Crossing her fingers for good luck, she walked forward almost gasping in surprise as the guards didn't even bat an eye at her presence nor her passing. Slowly it began to make sense, Altaïr was an assassin and the guards surely knew that so he had to take a slightly different route out of the town.

As she looked around the beautiful landscape, Natasha caught a glimpse of Altaïr standing over by a small cluster of the most beautiful looking horses that she had ever seen. She couldn't tell for sure but several looked like Arabians while the others looked like they could possibly be Barbs. Glancing at the silent assassin, she noted that he delicately held the reins to two of the horses. Natasha approached him, focusing more on the horses than anything. They were both Arabian, she could tell that from their dished faces and they were both a very striking shade of gray. The stallions held their finely shaped heads high with pride while letting out a few whuffling snorts. "Hey there pretty," the girl cooed softly as she stroked the velvety muzzle of the horse closest to her. The stallion replied with a slight toss of his head that made the girl smile. However, Altaïr was becoming even more restless. He thrust the reins into the girl's hands, "I assume you know how to ride. If you do not, you will learn quickly." With the grace of a skilled hunter, he leapt upon the horse's back, leaving Natasha staring in awe. "Wow," It came out as a light breath of air. With a practiced ease, she mounted the horse, her right leg swinging over the saddle in which she lowered her weight gently. Her grip on the reins was relaxed, making her look at ease when she was in a sense, somewhat nervous. The horse's temperament was unknown to her and she had heard rumors of Arabians being rather high strung. Seeing that Altaïr had already urged his own steed into a light trot, Natasha was quick to follow. With a few light clicking noises and a gentle nudge to the horse's side, she was on her way.

She rode beside Altaïr who, even though he was sitting upright, looked like he was more or less asleep on the horse. "Uhh… Altaïr?" She probed gently, looking at the silent man. "Altaïr?" "What?" The reply was clipped as though he didn't wish to speak. "Where are we going?" She received a grunt. "Ookaayy, how about this one? How long will it take us to get there?" "Long enough for me to wish to kill you if you keep asking questions that lack a point." Ouch. "Well aren't we Mister Sunshine today? Jeez, I'm just curious that's all." She was sure by now the man was rolling his eyes under his hood. His threat did little to faze her and she continued to pester him with questions. "Does it get hot wearing all those clothes?" He grunted once more. "How come you always wear the hood? Why do you hide your face? I'm sure you've got nothing to hide. And why don't you ever answer me? All you ever do is make the damned grunting noises. Are you too lazy to answer me? Is that it?" Nothing could have prepared him for that barrage of questions. Altaïr snapped his head in her direction, his lips drawn down into a grimace revealing his white teeth. "You continue to pester me child. Did no one tell you that curiosity killed the cat?" Natasha laughed softly, "Oh Altaïr, you forget though, that satisfaction brought him back." Altaïr looked at her in question before replying, "That is true, however it might not be so in your case." She shrugged, "Whatever."

They had been riding for several hours and Natasha was now starting to grow very impatient. "When will we be there? Where is 'there' anyways?" This brought a sigh from the man who rubbed his temples. "Maimun," his voice dropped as he glanced about almost frantically. "You need to cease your questions. Act nonchalant." She was about to open her mouth and release another question when she saw the answer. There was a small squad of guards marching their way and Altaïr had already dropped his head and looked to be asleep once more. Natasha tried to do the same, but thinking that would be foolish, she simply let herself relax, her body moving with the plodding of the horse. She tried to keep her eyes downcast but they begged to wander and look around and so they did. The guards were similar to the ones she had first encountered but it seemed like there were much more in their interesting V shaped pattern. "Like geese," she muttered oh so softly. Her eyes continued to glance around in what she hoped was a lazy pattern and eventually she caught one of the guard's eyes just as he caught hers… he seemed almost intrigued by her 'abnormal' hair color. She dipped her head slightly while crossing her fingers and hoping that they wouldn't arouse any suspicion. They didn't and the guards went their ways as did the two riders. Once they were out of earshot Altaïr straightened up and looked at Natasha, "I was worried that you wouldn't be able to hold your tongue." It was her turn to grunt, "Yeah well, surprise surprise." An awkward silence descended upon the pair and it lasted for quite some time.

After several more hours of an awkwardly silent ride, Natasha looked up at the setting sun. "Oh wow," she breathed. "That's beautiful!" Altaïr looked at her in question and she grinned sheepishly. "The sunset, it's so pretty." Indeed it was. The sky was turned into brilliant shades of orange and red, glowing brightly in an almost apocalyptic way. It wasn't until after Natasha had made her comment she realized just how tired she was. She figured that she had been up for at least 12 hours and she knew for a fact that the majority of them were spent on the back of a horse. It wasn't something she was accustomed to and she could feel that her muscles were stiff and cramped. "Altaïr?" She heard a faint sigh from the man as she spoke his name again. "Yes?" "Are we gonna stop and rest?" Her sentence was distorted by a large yawn which betrayed her fatigue. The man made a noncommittal noise as he continued to look ahead, or that's what she assumed. She couldn't tell because the hood that covered his face in shadows. "Altaïr," She began to whine, realizing how childish she must sound. "I'm tired. Can we pretty please stop and sleep? Pleeaaaaseeee?" He sighed again, but this time answered. "If you are tired you can easily fall asleep atop the horse. I do not believe we have time to set up a makeshift camp." "But what if I fall off?" "You won't," Was the dry reply. "Ughhhhhh. Fine!" Her fatigue was slowly turning into grumpiness, but she couldn't help it. Before long, Natasha found herself slumped over in the saddle with her face nestled up against the horse's damp neck and mane, breathing in the smell of horse and leather. She carefully wrapped her arms around the neck of the horse as well, hoping that even in sleep her fingers would maintain their grip.

By the time she felt a hand clap down on her shoulder once more, the sky was completely dark except for the light of the moon and a few stars. "Whaa?" Natasha groaned confusedly. She couldn't tell what time it was, other than dark and she was momentarily disoriented. Staring blankly for a few seconds before fixing her gaze on Altaïr, she noticed that the horses had stopped moving and they were near a small wooded area. "Where are we?" Her voice was heavy with sleep unlike the man who gave his one word answer, "Safe." He had already untacked his horse and was letting it wander nearby to graze on the short grass. Like an uncoordinated child, Natasha nearly fell from the back of her horse if it wasn't for her death grip on the horn of the saddle. However, when her legs touched ground it was another story. With her knees and legs threatening to give out at any moment, Natasha tried to move as fast as possible but she couldn't work her fingers to loosen the girth of the saddle to lift it off, especially not when her arm still pained her when it was moved in certain ways. She looked at Altaïr with embarrassment written all over her face. "Altaïr…can you please help me?" He grumbled quietly before gliding over the grass and easily removing the heavy leather saddle and saddle pad, allowing the horse to wander towards its companion who too still wore its bridle. Natasha barely made it over to the tiny fire that Altaïr had started before her legs gave out completely. She slumped to the ground with a disgraceful thud, narrowly missing a small rock. Altaïr dug through the two packs and pulled out a small supply of food that would be their dinner. A hunk of bread each. "You're joking…right?" She asked incredulously. "There is no way I can survive on just a bit of bread!" She was going to protest further but Altaïr shot her such a glare that her mouth shut instantly before she read a small hand out to grab her portion. Now thoroughly aware of the huger in her belly, Natasha began to gnaw on the bread which turned out to be slightly stale. By the time she had finished her chunk of bread her jaw had received quite the workout from chewing the old food but her stomach was more or less satisfied. Neither of them spoke any words before rolling over and trying to drift off to sleep.

For Altaïr sleep came easy, but for Natasha, it felt as though it would never come. Her legs and back were protesting loudly and the unforgiving ground was doing little to help her situation. After tossing and turn and probably waking up Altaïr, she had finally managed to find a position that was slightly comfortable. Her arms were tucked beneath her head serving as a pillow and they would surely be numb by the time she awoke.

Her tossing and turning had indeed awoken Altaïr and he secretly wished that she would stop fussing about. Being a light sleeper could be troublesome at times. He sat up and crossed his legs. Sleep wouldn't come to him now, so he might as use his awake time for something useful. His hood had fallen back to reveal the man's face to Natasha for the first time. Altaïr didn't seem to care, seeing as how the girl was asleep and not even facing his direction. His dark brown hair was kept extremely short, not so much longer than a military buzz cut. His eyes were brown as well but they were nowhere near as dark as his hair. They were a light shade of warm almost honey brown. They could be considered pretty and gentle if they didn't have the look of a cold blooded killer all the time. His eyes darted over towards Natasha and his eyebrows rose when he saw her curled up into a little ball. In his mind she was quite odd and rather annoying at times. But weren't all women like that? He shrugged mentally, how would he know? He closed his eyes lightly even though he sat. He trusted himself not to fall asleep. Altaïr's eyes snapped open at the sound of scraping and he saw the sleeping girl roll over to face him. Not even a second later he had his hood back up on his head. He could hear her light breathing and the occasional muttered phrase but other than that and the sounds of nature, all was quiet around the now dying fire.

The sun began its slow rise much too soon for his taste. At some point he had dozed off in his sitting position and now had several kinks in his neck from his head hanging. The man stood and quickly stretched his limbs, cracking a few joints here and there before wandering over to where the horses stood, dozing slightly. Although Altaïr would never admit it aloud, he wasn't looking forward to being back in the saddle. He scooped up one saddle pad and tossed it over the horse's back pulling it up almost to the withers. Next came the heavy leather saddle which sat atop the blanket in the middle of the back. As he tightened the girth, Altaïr gave a stern look at the horse as if warning it not to puff out its belly. But the horse still did so he had to readjust the girth a few moments later. All of this took only a matter of minutes for each of the horses who were now both wide awake and almost eager to get going. "Maimun, wake up, we must head out now." He tried to sound slightly gentle but that failed miserably. A discontent groan was emitted from the girl as she rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. "Jus' a few more minutes…" He sighed. "No, not just a few more minutes. Get up now or else I shall have to make you get up." Still the girl did not move and his patience was running thin. Striding over to her form in a very angry fashion he grabbed her bad arm by the bicep with a hand that felt like a steel trap and began pulling her up, off the ground. "Ow! Ow! Okay! You can stop now; I'm up, jeez…" She glared at him rubbing her most likely bruised arm. "A few minutes wouldn't have made a difference." She started to say, but after receiving an angry look, she shut up. She looked around in an almost surprised fashion, their campsite was cleaned up and it looked like no one had even been there. She had to admit, he did a good job of covering his tracks.

Before long, the odd duo was on the road again with their horses plodding along the rocky path. At this point they were in some sort of gorge and surprisingly enough, it seemed inhabited… almost. The sun was beating down on the horse and riders, making Natasha shift uncomfortably. What she would give for a bit of shade right now… "Altaïr?" There was no sigh this time, only a deafening silence. "How long until we get to where were going?" He resisted the urge to groan. This child was driving him up the wall! "Another day or two in the least." "You're shitting me right?" "Pardon?" "You're kidding. You gotta be kidding. There is no way I can last this long in a saddle for another two days!" Altaïr seemed to shrug slightly- he didn't really care. She sighed, giving up. "Fine, if it's going to take days at this pace, why don't we speed it up a bit?" She smiled hopefully at the once more silent man. And then, without warning, his horse lunged forward into an easy canter. Natasha let out a squeal of glee and urged her stallion to do the same, who happily obeyed. The rocking horse motion was much more comfortable for the riders now, not to mention it was much faster than a walk. The rocky walls of the canyon seemed to race by as man and girl urged their horses to a gallop. It quickly became a race between the two, and Altaïr's pride wouldn't let him lose while Natasha could care less about who won. She was busy smiling like and idiot, so the two raced on, neck and neck. She couldn't remember how long they were 'racing' for before Altaïr sharply reined in his horse, earning a loud neigh of protest. Unsure of what was going on, or his reasoning, Natasha too pulled back on the reins albeit more gently. He spoke first, in a hushed hiss of a whisper. "Guards…" Her smile almost instantly turned into a frown. "Why the fuck is there so many guards? I am sick of the motherf-ing guards on this motherf-ing road!"* She felt clever as she said that, all the while trying to keep her voice low, but wasn't entirely successful. One of the numerous guards snapped his hear towards her direction. "Oh fuck." She began to panic as they marched over with their armor gleaming in the sun. "Alta-" "Hush, just keep moving." Somehow he still looked rather relaxed though truth be told on the inside his adrenaline was pumping. The rider's tension became apparent to the horses that started to toss their heads and snort; their ears were constantly moving to pick up any sound. Natasha tightened her grip on the reins and still Altaïr sat in his nonthreatening way. The guards were within feet of them now and Natasha and Altaïr were forced to rein in their horses unless they wanted to trample the guards. Altaïr's horse let out a very decisive snort and stamped its hoof as though it was angry with having to stop so suddenly. The guards studied the pair and their suspicion was evident in all of their eyes. One man reached the conclusion before the rest. "Assassin!"

Almost immediately the guards sprung into action, freeing their swords, the metal singing. Altaïr had hardly responded, his mind working in overdrive. If he were to stay and fight, Natasha would probably be killed and although he had no serious issue with that, he knew it would look bad on him. So he chose a more suitable option, tactical retreat. "Go!" He hissed, spurring his horse forward into a gallop. Few of the guards let out cries of terror as the horse and rider bore down on them. If they did not move, they would be trampled. Not once would they be trampled, but twice for Natasha had now let her horse take control. Several of the guards managed to leap to the side; however their comrades weren't as lucky. The dull crunching and cracking of bones could be heard as the horses trampled the men before rearing and wheeling around to face them once more. Natasha clutched at the reins and mane of the horse, her legs clamping down on the side as she felt herself being lifted into the air. In her years of riding, not once had she been on the back of a rearing horse, nor one that apparently somewhat battle trained, or just a bad combination of frightened and angry. She felt and heard the hooves come crashing down with a heavy thud and she was pretty sure that bones had been cracked once more. She squeezed her eyes shut, unwilling to look at the scene before her. The guards had fled, most likely to gather reinforcements, but that did nothing to clear the broken remains of the guards.

Evidence of the trampling was clear, the bodies were broken and mashed into the earth that was already soaked with blood, some were flecked with the foam that had fallen from the horses' mouths, and for the unfortunate soul who lay face up and just so happened to be caught by the flailing hooves of Natasha's steed… Let us just say that his skull and face were no longer in one piece. The smell of death and blood had already permeated the air making the young girl nauseated. She had hardly noticed when Altaïr reached a gloved hand to grasp the reins of her horse to lead her away. He carefully noted, but did not say anything, about Natasha's current state. Her eyes remained shut and he could hear the shaky breathing even though her face was hidden by her quivering hands.

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Later that night…

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Natasha had remained awkwardly silent for the remainder of that day's ride. Even when Altaïr would speak to her she would not answer and if he was fortunate, he would get a muffled grunt in reply. The small fire was burning brightly offing little heat and protection from the night and what may be lurking in the shadows. Normally Altaïr would do without a fire but something had been compelling him for the past few nights to construct the little flame. A slight glance at Natasha revealed her to be sitting within a foot of the flames, just staring at the source of warmth and light. He had offered her food, knowing that it was necessary to eat but the girl had refused to take it. The night was silent except for the crackle of the fire and the gentle breeze that whispered through the trees. It wasn't long before Natasha had managed to drag herself away from the fire to curl and fall asleep, but it foretold another possibly sleepless night for Altaïr.

The night had passed without any incidents and Altaïr had managed to fall asleep even if it was only for a small number of hours. He was used to running on very little sleep, so it didn't seem to make much of a difference to him. By the way the sun was held in the sky, he had judged it to be almost mid morning and Natasha still had not moved, not even after he had nudged her with his foot. He let out an exasperated sigh and tried again and this time, she did stir. Looking at the hooded man confusedly so let out a soft grumble before getting to her feet and clumsily packing her stuff together.

They left much later than Altaïr would have wished, the sun was now signaling that it was around noon. Once more the ride was awkwardly silent, though Altaïr didn't really care because it was a rather nice change of pace from her persistent questioning. Though he didn't care, Altaïr couldn't shake the strange feeling of something being wrong and he knew how important it could be to trust his instincts. He had suggested to quicken the pace to a canter or gallop, to break the monotony and the girl's silence –it was starting to bother him now- but even then she did not speak, she only acted.

The horses had been moving at a good pace for quite some time now and foam flecked their velvety muzzles. Fatigue still plagued Natasha and even at the speed they were moving, she found herself nodding off every so often. She was rudely awoken when her horse skidded to an abrupt stop, the girl's head snapping back painfully. A low growl escaped her throat, voicing her displeasure even when she didn't speak. Natasha shot a questioning glance at Altaïr who was studying the path in front of them. There was a higher road –much like a large rocky ramp stuck onto the side of the canyon walls-traveling above the head of a few guards and then there was the road that they could continue on that looked much less guarded. He exhaled sharply, not really wanting to deal with more guards; they had had enough issues with them already. With a gentle nudge of his feet and a snap of the reins, he moved his horse into a trot, the reins of Natasha's horse were held in his other hand, tugging the two along. The clopping of hooves was magnified and echoed in the surrounding canyon. The sound seemed to multiply and grow and Altaïr realized with a certain uneasiness that the noise was coming from a duo of guards on horseback, heavily armed and well armored. He had no doubt that those horses, judging from their appearance, knew how to act in battle. With a glance at the girl, he noted that Natasha was already slumped back over, asleep once more and he reassumed his slouching position in the saddle. The guards were conversing in rather hushed tones and the assassin didn't bother trying to listen in as the passed by. Each pair went their own separate ways.

It was mid afternoon by the time the sleeping girl awoke again, this time without any painful assistance. Though she had rested many hours, the feeling of exhaustion refused to leave her aching body. "Altaïr?" Her voice came out as a dry croak, most likely from the lack of water. "Can we stop soon?" Without even facing her, the man shook his head. "It is only a few hours more of riding before we reach Masyaf." Natasha blinked. "Masyaf?" But she received no further answer and they continued to trot along. Twisting slightly in the saddle, she reached behind her, fumbling for the pack that was tied behind the hard leather saddle. Her growing thirst was beginning to aggravate her. Her hand managed its way inside and her fingers closed on a small apple. It was not water, but she assumed that it would suffice. Upon hearing the crunch, her horse's ears swiveled backwards and it let out a whuffle, expressing its opinion and desire for the food.

Every nerve in her body was protesting by the time night fell. According to Altaïr, they were less than a mile outside of the city, but due to Natasha's continuous requests to stop and rest, –and the fact he really wanted her to just shut up- they set up camp nearby. He lit no fire this night; they were close enough to home to not really need to fear anything. The girl had found her small canteen filled with water and was trying to prevent herself from just chugging it. It was a miserable battle, but being water logged wasn't the most pleasant of experiences. The silent man had eaten a portion of his rations to prevent his stomach from complaining and he noted with what could described as something almost like concern (keyword, almost) that once again the girl had refused to eat –she claimed she wasn't hungry- and had fallen asleep promptly.

The sun had yet to grace the sky, and the only indication of its presence was a few light streams of pink that streaked across the still dark sky. Altaïr was rather surprised to see Natasha already awake and moving about, attempting to saddle her horse. From the looks of it, she was able to move her arm a bit more freely, but it still caused pain. With a tremendous heave, the saddle landed on the Arabian stallion's back with a thud. She spun around upon hearing the slightly scuffing of the man's boots as he picked up his small pack that held his rations. Still his face –save his mouth- was hidden by the shadows of his hood and Natasha began to wonder if she would ever see what he looked like. With a deft nod, they mounted up and urged the horses into a relaxing canter.

It had taken mere minutes for the riders and their eager horses to reach the outer gates of the city and all Natasha could do was stare up in awe at the city called Masyaf.

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A/N: I know that there are no mounted guards in AC and that kinda bugged me (there's horses all over so why not?) so I decided to switch things up a bit (no doubt they'll make a few more appearances…) :3

The title **"****pas de cheval" **translates literally to **"step of the horse"** (it is a ballet move actually) I believe. I feel that it is rather fitting for this chapter.

*Snakes on a Plane ref. :3

**Reviews are loved and very much so welcomed! :]**


	9. City Gates

A/N:

Gurgle gurgle, shit myself. Why? Cause, Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood. Oh yes, entertainment. Ezio is such a scandalous man! Lul

I still haven't played AC2.. I'm such a bad person…

**rosewhip89: **I'm glad you loved that reference :3 lol

**Ugly Bunny:** lulwut

**Disclaimer: I do ****not**** own Altaïr, (or any other products) but I however do own all thoughts, OCs, and ideas that will be held within this story.**

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The city of Masyaf was surrounded by outrageously tall wooden walls, similar to the rock foundation of the city she had left many long days ago. The ends of these behemoth wooden stakes were sharpened into very nasty points. Natasha figured that the people had done that just incase someone was actually able to scale the sturdy barrier. She had many doubts that people had actually tried to do something as crazy as that. Her green eyes cast a glance towards Altaïr who sat motionless atop his fine steed. He slid off the horse with an ease that belied his stature, still causing the young girl's eyes to widen. Still her mind had failed to grasp the concept at which the ease this man moved with. In her mind she had finally settled on the word that could best describe the fluidity of his movements; cat-like.

His face was still veiled beneath his white hood that was now covered in a layer of road dirt. He spoke no words, only leading his horse towards the others. Natasha looked at him questioningly, though she could really care less about what he did now. She too slid from the horse, though with less grace than her partner, and let the tired beast wander back to its comrades. "You are to remain silent and wait near the front gate." She let out a soft _**hmph**_ as Altaïr gave her his hushed instructions, but complied to them with a small dip of her head.

Inside the city, the hustle and bustle of people was much more than Natasha had expected. People walked to and fro, openly discussing with the other people in such an amiable way that it caused a pang of home sickness to wash through Natasha's heart. She missed her faithful dog, who always listened to her and she even longed for the company of her parents, as annoying as they could be. But still, she remained silent, her face displaying as much emotion as the rocks on which she sat upon. Now that she had been able to truly relax, her body kindly enlightened her of how displeased it was. Her legs and back ached like a bitch, her sides were cramped and she could feel the wrappings clinging to her body with probably a little more than just sweat and on top of that her hands felt like they were on fire and she was sure that all the road dirt that had made its home in her cuts wasn't helping. "Well, if it bled, at least it isn't showing…" The thought provided little comfort to the exhausted girl. With every minute that ticked by she could feel herself shutting down even more. All she wanted to do now was sleep and never wake up or find a rather sharp object and a hidden spot. Unfortunately the latter was not available and the struggle against sleep became more prevalent.

Luckily for her the assassin returned a short time thereafter though his expression was slightly sour, a bad sign for her. He made a quick gesture for her to rise and follow, taking little note of her bedraggled state. The trip up the hill was relatively short for Altaïr who completed it at a light jog. The pair stopped outside a large portcullis with guards on both sides. "Do not speak, act or move unless told to. Understand? They can easily remove your pitiful form from existence," he hissed, earning a slight shrug of the shoulders. That would have to do. The assassin ushered the girl inside providing sharp jabs to move her in the right direction when necessary and only earning a few quizzical glances from the trainees who were not in the training ring. Up the stairs they went, through a miniature library and then up some more stairs and around a corner until they were face to face with Al Mualim. The grizzled old man sat neatly behind his writing table fixing his gaze upon Altaïr and the poor creature he was prodding along.

"Ah, Altaïr. It is good to see you return home relatively uninjured. This is the one you spoke of?" A curt nod from the skilled killer was the response. "Very interesting. Now tell me… what is…" He trailed off unsure of what gender to call Altaïr's companion. The last thing he wanted was to make a bad impression. Natasha looked at Altaïr who seemed to be weighing his options. "Natasha." It was half directed to his elder, half to the girl who was busy digging at her clothes to scratch an itch. Al Mualim nodded and beckoned the assassin over to his side as he moved to look out the window that overlooked the courtyard. Though their hushed tones didn't reach her ears, Natasha could only fear for the worst and she continued to scratch but this time she was digging the remnants of her damaged nails deeper, relishing in the pain it brought. She glanced up to see the two staring peculiarly at her as she quickly tried to wipe the small amount of blood from her fingertips. "Child," Al Mualim began softly. "I will have an area set aside in which you can sleep, but first it appears you have some wounds that should be tended to." Natasha's eyes widened slightly, "Nononono. It's ok, I'm fine. They'll heal. They always do." But the old man's gaze said trying to avoid this was out of the question and Altaïr looked ready to slit her throat so she immediately dropped her head down. "Altaïr, would you mind showing your charge to where she can seek any medical attention necessary." Altaïr opened his mouth to protest but quickly shut it, recalling the last time he had chosen to speak out.

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The room was lacking in people, but not in supplies. Natasha's eyes wandered over the makeshift cots that looked like they had seen better days. Though the assassins were bringers of death, they were not invincible. Two younger looking men were huddled around one of the cots until they heard Altaïr's impatient foot tapping. "Ah, forgive-" "Take care of her wounds." And with that he left a befuddled Natasha with the trainees, who seemed even more confused. She let out an exasperated sigh. "Just some cuts and scrapes, it's nothing too bad…" One of them nodded and dashed off to grab some bandages and salve while Natasha looked at her feet. Turning her back to the men she worked and repositioning her clothes, giving her the most coverage while still allowing the wounds to be tended. "Do you have a knife? I don't think these are gonna come off easy…" She motioned to the bindings which portions were stuck to her skin via dried blood. She fought the blush rising to her cheeks as she revealed her bruised and now freshly cut abdomen. More angry red lines had made their way up past her hips and just barely peeked out past the waistline of her pants, drawing attention from her fresh scars. She made a mental note to keep her self harming habits strictly in areas that wouldn't see the light of day.

After an extremely awkward patch up session that took God knows how long, Natasha felt a little better. If anything some of the ache was starting to leave her body, nothing more. She turned to leave the room and walked face first into very solid but yet soft, white fabric thus earning a frustrated growl from Altaïr. "Come. I must show you your quarters. You are to remain there until someone sends for you." And once more she was prodded along the darkened hallways to another room. This one was different; it was furnished- to a degree. It had an actual bed and little more, but Natasha wasn't going to complain. She stumbled on in, refusing to flinch when she heard the heavy door slam shut behind her and the soft click of a locking mechanism. Two more steps and she landed face first onto the bed. "Just sleep, sleep makes all the bad go away…" She crooned to herself before curling into the fetal position to sleep.

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"What do you propose we do with her then?" Altaïr sighed and looked at his elder with a neutral expression. "Dispose of her perhaps? She knows too much about us and she is of no use." "You say she is of no possible use, but yet you say she hails from a different time and land entirely. Perhaps they have skills you do not?" Al Mualim continued to press the point. It made no sense to him to destroy something before getting something out of it. "Yes, but even if that is to be the case, she is mentally ill, do you not see? She willingly draws the blade across her skin to bring her comfort." His elder would have none of this. "Get what you can from her, and then if necessary, we can dispose of her." Altaïr would have preferred to remover her from existence at that exact moment but he had no choice other than to concede. "As you wish."

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Let's do the time warp again!

The next day….

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After five minutes of furiously pounding on the solid wooden door, frustration finally took over and Altaïr flung the door open, taking quick, angry strides towards the bed where Natasha lay facedown and unmoving. His open hand came down with surprising force onto her shoulder; his bone crushing grip was unrelenting and elicited an angry growl from Natasha who struggled to pull away. "Altaïr lemme go. I just wanna sleep. Leave me alone." It was probably the longest she had spoken to him in the past few days. "Get up; there are things that must be done." His iron grip didn't loosen and he began to pull her deadweight towards the edge of the bed, despite her protests. After a short lived and extremely one sided fight, Natasha was left half standing, half leaning against the closest solid object, that being the wall.

She was quickly lead around the giant maze-like building and shown where she could obtain meals as well as bathe on a somewhat regular basis before she was being shuffled back to her room where Natasha promptly curled up in a ball to sleep the pain away once more.

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This routine of waking/being dragged out of bed went on for the next few days until one morning Altaïr walked in to find the girl half bare with her back to the door. Unfazed by the by the show of flesh in front of him, the man just stood with his arms crossed, merely observing. He saw the glint of metal before Natasha's arm shifted to embed the tip of the blade deep enough into her skin before pulling it up in a quick diagonal across her hip of choice. No sound was uttered as she repeated this process at least twice more before turning around to stash away the dirtied knife. Her eyes shot wide open when she saw Altaïr standing with his arms crossed over his chest. What was visible of his face remained neutral, even when the girl gripped the knife tighter as if ready to fight.  
"Altaïr? What are you doing here?" The panic was evident in her voice as she quickly moved to pull up the waistband of her pants and grab a shirt of some sort to throw over her torso that was barely covered by her bindings, all while keeping the knife in hand.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion and neither of them moved an inch, not even Natasha who was struggling to resist the urge to wipe away some of the blood as not to stain the clothes she wore. Her knuckles were slowly starting to turn white and she began to take a few steps backwards. "Natasha… Where did you get the knife?" The assassin received no response other than the shifting of the girl's eyes. "Natasha," he began again when the girl lunged for the doorway and slammed into his shoulder with a loud _**oomf**_. He was knocked off balance while the girl hit the floor and scrambled to her feet just barely dancing out of his grasp before she took off running down the dim hallway.

Her bare feet skittered over the hardened floor as she struggled to tuck the knife into her bindings as she ran. It was hardly silent and her panicked steps easily drowned out the noise that Altaïr's booted feet made. She saw a light towards the end of the hallway, a door to the outside and a few more steps and she would be free! But she never reached that freedom, instead she fell short, her body roughly slammed into the ground with a dead weight on top of her. She felt the weight shift to the base of her neck and upper back, moving only enough to allow her to breathe somewhat easier. "Natasha, give me the knife." The voice was cold and commanding, yet she continued to refuse and resist. He quickly grabbed her arm and twisted it back in a most painful position. She gritted her teeth and bravely, but unsuccessfully, fought back the urge to cry out in pain as her arm was twisted more and more. There was the sound of more footsteps and suddenly the pressure was gone from her arm. "Altaïr! What do you think you are doing?" Whoever the voice belonged to, they were pretty pissed. She heard a murmured reply but couldn't make out any of the words. A few moments later Altaïr sighed and rose to his feet, dislodging his knee from the base of the girl's neck.

But Natasha wasn't free yet. Some unseen figure had established a grip on her arms and pulled them roughly behind her back. Panic rose once more as she was left defenseless and blood had already begun running though the thin material of her shirt and pants. She knew she had lost and kept her eyes downcast even when Altaïr forced her head back up. "Who gave you the knife?" He spoke in low, threatening tones that were just barely loud enough for her to hear. "Wouldn't you like to know." The grip on her chin tightened and she felt a few fingers brush the skin of her throat. His patience had worn thin by now and his free hand shamelessly pulled the quivering girl's shirt up to reveal the bloody cuts and old bindings. Altaïr ignored the rising blush of the girl as his deft hands quickly found and removed the knife that was tucked away near the her ribs.

How she had gotten a hold of one of the assassin's throwing knives was beyond him. Seeing as how she still refused to answer, Altaïr tried again. "Natasha," he began once more but when he received no response his hand forced her chin upward to face his own hooded features once more. Her face was devoid of any emotions now, but her eyes, they were the ones who betrayed her. They screamed with pain, embarrassment and more than anything else, self loathing.

"Take her away. Dress her wounds and restrain her. And you had best pray to the Lord that I do not find any sharp object within her reach." With that, Altaïr strode away but not before fixing Natasha with a glare so intense that would have made a grown man fear, if they could see through the white cowl.

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A/N: Arghy blarghy! Ugh I hope this chapter was decent/readable or something idk. It might be redone depending on what my time allows (probably not). Just feels like a giant filler chapter (probably filled with typos too- dont hate!) lul. Fail chapter ending.

Reviews, comments, concerns, questions, criticisms are all allowed 3


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